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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 




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Guy Tresillian’s 

Fate 

A Sequel to “Tresillian Court.” 

By Mrs. Harriet Lewis. 

ILLUSTRATED BY A. W. VAN DEUSEN. 


Library. 

87 . 


THE LEDGER LIBRARY. 


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X 





GUY TRESILLIAN’S FATE. 

9 





/ 


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GUY TRESILLIAN’S FATE. 

A SEQUEL TO 


“TRESILLIAN COURT.” 


BY 

MRS. HARRIET 


/ 

LEWIS, 

u 


Author of 11 Her Double Life,” “ Lady Kildare 11 Neva's 
Three Lovers “ The Haunted Husband etc . 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY A. W. VAN DEUSEN. 


NEW YORK: 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

PUBLISHERS. 



THE LEOGE0 LIBRARY : IS8UEO SEMI-MONTHLY SUBSCRIPTION PRICE, TWELVE DOLLARS PER ANNUM NO 87, 
JUNE 15, 1893. ENTERED AT THE NEW YORK, N. Y., POST OFFICE AS SECOND CLASS MAIL MATTER. 


I 



JV c 

Gs 

<o ^ 


Copyright, 1870 and 1893, 
By ROBERT BONNER’S SONS. 


(All rights reserved.) 



GUY TRESSILIAN'S FATE. 




CHAPTER I. 

PUT AWAY. 

HE short December day was drawing 
near its close when Jasper Lowder, 
his wife and child steamed ontof the 
old cathedral town of Gloucester, on 
their way to the bleak northern 
county, where Lowder intended that 
Hester and her boy should live and 
die in the dim seclusion he deemed 
necessary to his safety. 

There was snow in the air. The 
car windows were dripping with the 
moisture condensed from the atmosphere. The car 
lamp was lit in the centre of the compartment ceiling, 
but its dim rays did not avail to make the place cheer- 
ful. The city lamps were already lighted, but their 

[7J 



gcjy tressilian's fate. 


gleam was faint and watery, reminding one of bleared 
and rheumy eyes peering through the darkness. 

The three, husband, wife and child, had their com- 
partment entirely to themselves, Lowder having be- 
stowed a liberal gratuity upon the guard. 

Hester laid her boy upon one of the cushioned seats, 
pillowing his little head upon her travelling rug, and 
tucking him up warmly with her Scotch tartan shawl. 
Then seating herself opposite her sleeping child, she 
drooped her own tired head to Lowder’s shoulder with 
a tender confidingness that should have smitten him to 
the heart. 

“ It is so good to have a husband once more to lean 
upon and look uo to,” said the wife, smiling and sigh- 
ing. 

Lowder stole his arm around her. 

“ You cannot ‘ look up to me ’ very well,” he said, 
with seeming bitterness. “ How I must have fallen in 
your estimation, Hester ! How you must despise me !” 

“ Oh, no, no !” cried Hester, in a pained tone. “ Oh, 
no, indeed, dear Jasper ! You repented as soon as you 
realized what you had done. I will not believe that 
you were yourself that terrible night. You would not 
have taken a pin belonging to another with the idea of 
stealing it, if you were really yourself. I do look up to 
you, Jasper, and day and night my prayer is that our 
boy may grow up to be like his father.” 

In the dim light of the car lamp the face of Jasper 
Lowder looked ghastly at that moment. He had made 
his choice between right and wrong, between good and 
evil, and though now his stifled, outraged conscience had 
ceased to upbraid him and bid him repent his choice, 
yet he was not yet utterly hardened. His soul 
had awakened to the music of his child’sp voice. He 
was sorry for poor, gentle, timid Hester, whose only 


PUT AWAY. 


9 


fault was in loving him too well, and trusting him too 
implicitly. 

“ Heaven grant he may be a better man than I have 
been !” he said involuntary, in a hoarse and broken 
voice. 

The young wife nestled closer to him. She fancied 
that he was brooding over the sin he professed to have 
committed — the sin of robbing his benefactor. 

It must not be supposed that Hester’s ideas of right 
and wrong were at all vague and undefined. Had 
another told her the story that Lowder had rehearsed, 
she would have been shocked beyond measure at the 
guilt and treachery of the wretched criminal. As it 
was, the pretended revelation had been a shock to her, 
in her love and pride for her husband, but .she had in- 
vented a thousand excuses for him, had pitied him for 
the supposed momentary yielding, now so bitterly 
repented, and resolved that no word or look of her’s 
should ever remind him how deeply he had erred. 

There was a little silence between the pair. Hester 
was quiet from very excess of happiness, in feeling 
around her the sheltering arm of the husband she had 
mourned as dead. And he was busy, with his wife’s 
head on his breast, with his dreams of the hour when 
the little golden head of Blanche Irby should nestle 
there, in just such tender confidingness, in just such 
loving abandonment. 

“ Do you know where we are going, dear ?” asked 
Hester at last rousing her husband from his unhallowed 
fancies. 

Lowder started guiltily. 

11 1 have not quite decided,” he said. “ I want to find 
some secluded spot where you and the boy will be safe. 
If Guy Tressilian refuses to overlook my crime, I will 
hide myself with you. If he should take me back into 


10 GUY TRESSILIAn’s FATE. 

his employ, I will run up to see you now and then, and 
sometime I will bring you nearer to me, so that we can 
be more together. You will be lonely often, Hester, 
but you will find plenty to do in caring for and teach- 
ing our boy, and you will bear the loneliness for my sake, 
I know.” 

“ Gladly, Jasper. To know that I am in the same 
country with you will be joy enough. To know that 
you will come to me as often as you can, that I shall see 
you now and then, will make my lot more than toler- 
able — even pleasant. You need not worry about me,” 
said the unselfish, true-hearted wife. 

The question of where they were going began to 
occupy Lowder’s attention to the exclusion of all others. 
He pondered it deeply. 

He remembered that, a day or two after his arrival 
at Tressilian Court — the day subsequent to his entering 
upon the possession of Guy’s private estate of Gilde- 
thorpe, Guy’s inheritance from the late Lady Tressilian 
— Sir Arthur had informed him that he, the pretended 
son, had another property in the north, the legacy of 
one of Guy’s relatives by his mother’s side. 

Lowder had made some inquiries at the time con- 
cerning this additional estate, and had been informed 
that it consisted of some twenty acres situated on the 
declivity of one of the Cheviot hills, and having a small 
stone cottage. It had been occupied by a north- 
country man, who had hired a large pasturage in the 
vicinity for his flocks of sheep, but this man had recently 
died, and his widow now lived alone. 

A brilliant idea struck Lowder. Why not take Hes- 
ter to Gloam Fell, as the place was called ? Why should 
she not be more securely hidden than elsewhere on this 
property, of which he now claimed the ownership ? 

One precaution, however, suggested itself. As Sir 


PUT AWAY. 


11 


Arthur might, by some chance, be made aware that 
the place had a new tenant, it would be well for Hester 
to be known under a name other than that rightfully 
her own. 

He immediately proposed to her to change her name, 
giving as a reason that otherwise his safety would be 
endangered. 

Hester fell into the trap at once. 

“ What name shall I take, Jasper ?” she asked. 

“ Your old name. Call yourself Mrs. Hester Blees. 
I have heard of a cottage known as Gloam Fell, up in 
Northumberland. In fact, Hester, it belongs to Mr. 
Guy Tressilian, but none of the Tressilians ever visit 
it. Sir Arthur said that his son would do well to turn 
the place into a shooting-box, for grouse is very plenti- 
ful in that vicinity. It would be the last place in the 
world where one would look for you and me. You 
must be careful never to mention either the name of 
Tressilian or Lowder — ” 

“ I would rather not go to any place of Mr. Tres- 
silian ’s, Jasper,” murmured the wife. 

“ Then you don’t wish to do as I say ? We shall not 
be indebted to Tressilian, for I have plenty of money to 
pay my way, independent of that — that money. If you 
refuse to follow my guidance — ” 

“ I don’t, Jasper — I don’t.” 

“ That is well. There is a woman now in charge of 
the place, the widow of the late tenant. She cannot 
afford to retain the place, and has written asking to be 
relieved of the rental. I will manage the rent, and she 
will stay with you as housekeeper and companion, no 
doubt. But you must not let her know that I am your 
husband. It is better not.” 

Hester promised compliance with all of these injunc- 
tions, many of which she failed to comprehend. 


12 


GUY TRESSILIAn’s FATE. 


The hours wore on. The little child still slept. Hes- 
ter, too, fell into fitful and uneasy slumbers ; but Low- 
der sat upright, his staring eyes looking unblinkingly 
out into the gloomy night. 

On the long, serpent-like train, with its eye of fire, 
glided — through Birmingham, Sheffield, Leeds, and on 
up into the bleak northern country. Occasionally, 
when the train halted in some long and busy station, a 
guard would open the door and provide the travellers 
with hot water cans in place of their cold ones, but there 
were few interruptions other than these. 

What were the thoughts of Jasper Lowder during that 
long and dreary night watch, with his wife on his 
bosom and his child before his eyes, might be imagined, 
but not described. 

The path of guilt was not so utterly thornless as he 
had imagined. 

Durham and Newcastle were passed, and in the gray 
of the morning dawn the train glided into the depot at 
Alnwick. Here the travellers alighted, Lowder carry- 
ing his child in his arms, and disguising himself by 
slouching his hat over his eyes, and drawing up around 
his face the velvet collar of his greatcoat. 

A cab was procured, and Lowder placed in it his wife 
and boy. He then walked to and fro for a few moments 
to relax his stiffened limbs, and returning to the cab, 
gave his order to the driver. 

“To the best hotel,” he said. 

He entered the vehicle, and the weary travellers were 
driven to the Northumberland Hotel. Lowder ordered 
a sitting-room and bedroom, with a fire, and the three 
were soon installed in comfortable quarters. 

When they had refreshed themselves by a partial bath 
and were warmed and comforted, Lowder rang and 
ordered a breakfast to b‘e sent up. 


PUT AWAY. 


13 

In the course of an hour, a tempting- repast of thin, 
crisp bacon, with eggs, broiled game birds, toast, coffee 
and other edibles was brought up by the attentive 
waiter, whom Lowder dismissed with a gratuity. 

Lowder placed his wife in her chair, put his boy in 
her arms, and took his own place with quite the air of a 
family man. The glow came to Hesters pale, thin 
cheeks as she watched him, and wished that he could 
be -always with her, and just as he was now. 

“ By the way, Hester,” said Lowder, as he carved the 
delicately browned birds, “ you will want to write to 
me often, of course. It won’t be safe for you to address 
me by my own name, so I must give you an assumed 
address. You can write to me under cover to John 
Harroville, at Gloucester. Make a note of the address.” 

Hester did so, taking out her pocket-book for the 
purpose. 

“Jasper,” she said hesitatingly, and with a pleading 
look, “ I should like to return that hundred pounds to 
Mr. Guy Tressilian. It seems as if I had obtained it 
under false pretences — ” 

“ Nonsense !” said Lowder harshly, and frowning. 
“ Don’t be foolish, Hester. Allow me to manage for 
you. One would think you had suddenly lost all con- 
fidence in my honor and honesty and good sense.” 

Half frightened, Hester faltered out excuses, and 
protested that he was quite wrong, and that she would 
obey him to the letter. 

The meal was concluded and Lowder rang for his 
bill and to order a post-chaise for the remainder of his 
journey. 

An hour thereafter, the little party entered the post- 
chaise, and Lowder said to the driver, who stood at the 
door of the vehicle, whip in hand : 

“ Can you take us to a cottage called Gloam Fell, on 


14 


GUY TRESSILIAn’s FATE. 


the mountain-side, about twenty miles from Alnwick, 
and somewhere between Ramshope and Alnham ? It is 
near a tiny hamlet known as Gloamvale, on the moun- 
tain north of Carter Fell.” 

“ I know Gloamvale, sir,” said the driver. “ I can 
find the cottage you speak of, since it has a name.” 

He climbed to his box, flourished his whip, and the 
vehicle went bowling down the pleasant town street. 

On leaving Alnwick, the driver struck out for Alnham. 
Lowder observed in what direction the vehicle was pro- 
ceeding, and then gave his attention to Hester and his 
child. 

The little fellow wa$ awake, and as bright, merry, 
and good-natured as on the previous day. He moved 
restlessly on his mother’s knee, studied Lowder’s face 
with baby intentness, and at last, seeming to recognize 
the tie between this stranger and himself, put up his 
tiny arms and lisped the name Hester had assiduously 
taught him : 

“ Papa !” 

The name, uttered by the sweet baby voice, thrilled 
Lowder’s guilty heart with sadness and a vague remorse, 
but it had no deeper effect. He did not falter in his 
resolve to abandon his child as his father had aban- 
doned him. But he took the boy in his arms and tossed 
him up and played with him, and weakly wished in his 
own heart that he had been rich and had never seen 
Blanche Irby, in which case he might have been happy 
with Hester and his child. 

The morning was lowering and gloomy, as are nearly 
all the mornings of December in England. The air had 
a chill in it, and a wild wind was blowing. The horses 
made good progress over the rough roads, and by ten 
o'clock the post-chaise, having left Alnham in the rear, 


PUT AWAY. 


15 


rattled up the stony single street of the small hamlet 
known as Gloamvale. 

Lowderput his head out of the window and surveyed 
the scene. 

The hamlet was situated at the very foot of the 
grim old mountain, which sheltered it from the bleak 
northern winds. It contained but half a dozen stone 
cottages of meagre pretensions. There was a single 
shop, the door of which was surmounted by a sign bear- 
ing the inscription, “John Noaks, General Dealer/’ and 
that John Noaks was a very general dealer was evi- 
denced by the miscellaneous character of his wares. 
Confectionary, dry goods and vegetables were displayed 
in the small projecting window ; hoop-skirts, mufflers, 
shawls and boots ornamented his low doorway ; and on 
the sidewalk were pots, pans, pokers and other house- 
hold goods, with bales of sheetings and piles of blankets, 
baskets of eggs, and strips of cotton lace, bearing the 
legend, “ id. per yard.” The letters P. O. in the win- 
dow signified that the shop was also a post-office. 

Beyond the general dealer’s was a low stone smithy, 
the sound of whose hammers beating upon an anvil 
made music on the gloomy air. The driver of the post- 
chaise drove up to the door of the smithy, and hailed 
its proprietor, who came out to the street with his 
leather apron half enveloping his portly figure, and his 
hammer in his hand. 

“ Whereabouts may Gloam Fell be ?” asked the 
driver. 

“ A mile further up the road, on the mountain-side,” 
was the response, while the smith surveyed the occu- 
pants of the chaise curiously, 

Lowder tossed the smith a shilling, which was 
received with a stare of surprise, and the post-chaise 
resumed its journey. 


16 


GUY TRESSILIAN’S FATE. 


About a mile from the hamlet, having passed one or 
two lowly dwellings, the travellers beheld a small stone 
cottage, of picturesque appearance, set in the midst of a 
barren garden. A few trees screened the cottage from 
the road. At one side of the dwelling, divided from the 
garden by a low stone-wall, was a field of apparently 
some twenty acres, where sheep of a. fine breed were 
trying to find pasturage. There having been as yet no 
snows, the sheep had not yet been gathered into their 
winter fold by their thrifty owner. 

“ This must be the place,” said Lowder, as the chaise 
drew up before the tall gate in the stone wall shutting 
off the cottage grounds from the road. “It looks like 
an ancient hunting-box fallen into decay. Stay here, 
Hester, while I make inquiries.” 

He opened the chaise door and leaped out. Bidding 
the driver remain on his box, he opened the tall gate, 
which he found unlocked, and hurried up the path to 
the main entrance of the dwelling. The front part of 
the house appearing deserted, he did not pause to knock, 
but followed the path that led around to a rear door. 

Here were signs of life and occupancy. The shutters 
of a rear room were thrown open, and Lowder looked 
through the unsheltered windows, into a cozy, bright 
little kitchen. He knocked loudly. 

Presently an elderly woman came to the door. She 
was a tall, gaunt person, with an honest, homely face, 
and simple, clean attire. She was the widow of the 
late tenant of Gloatn Fell. 

Are you Mrs. Tooker ?” inquired Lowder, keeping 
his face carelessly muffled. “The widow of Jacob 
Tooker ?” 

The woman replied in the affirmative. 

I come from Mr. Guy Tressilian, the owner of this 
place,” said Lowder. 



j y owDEi5 helped jjer into the harouchb;.— See Chapter V. 



PUT AWAY. 


17 


The woman put her hand to her ear. 

“ I am a little hard of hearing/' she said. “ Won’t 
you come in, sir ?” 

Lowder followed her into the tidy kitchen, with its 
bright fire, its rows of gleaming pans, and its cleanly 
swept hearth. 

“I come from Mr. Guy Tressilian, Madam/' he said, 
more loudly, halting -near the door, hat in hand. “ I 
bring a letter from Mr. Tressilian.” 

He produced from his note book a letter he had writ- 
ten that morning at the Northumberland Hotel, and 
signed with the name of Guy Tressilian. The dame 
put on her spectacles and slowly perused the letter, 
which introduced the bearer as Mr. Tressilian’s agent, 
and enjoined upon Mrs. Tooker to treat with him as 
with the owner. 

The effect of the letter upon the simple woman was 
to cause her to treat the impostor with the most marked 
respect. 

“ Mr. Tressilian said that you had written to him that 
you felt unable to keep the place,” said Lowder, in a 
loud, shrill voice. “ And therefore I, as his agent, have 
let it to a very respectable lady, with her child, who has 
come with me, and who is now at the gate.” 

“ I am glad that the place is taken off my hands, 
sir,” said Mrs. Tooker. “ I was afraid T should be held 
on the lease, and the rent is too heavy for a lone woman 
to keep up. I have sold the sheep and stock, and now 
I will look for a new home. The new tenant has come, 
you say, sir ?” 

“ Yes, madam ; but she desires me to ask you to re- 
main as her housekeeper and companion,’ said Low- 
der glibly. “ She is a very quiet person, and is too 
timid to live here alone. She authorizes me to offer you 


IS 


GUY TRESSILIAn’s FATE. 


twenty pounds a year, if you will remain and take 
charge of the establishment.” 

The woman looked pleased. 

“ I should like to stay, sir,” she said. “ The place is 
home to me, and it was only the rent that made me 
think of leaving. Twenty pounds a year ! And house 
room free ?” 

“ And the rent of the field,” suggested Lowder. 

“ The lady is too generous,” said Mrs. Tooker, flush- 
ing with delight. ** But I am afraid she would expect 
too much. I can cook and mind the house ; but as to 
being ‘ companion,’ I’m afraid I wouldn’t suit. I am 
so deaf, sir, and I’ve got out of the way of talking much, 
living so alone and being deaf, that I shouldn’t like to 
be a ‘ companion ’ to anybody.” 

“ You would just suit the lady,” declared Lowder, 
well pleased with the woman’s description of herself. 
“ You will agree to stay ?” 

The widow assented. 

Lowder counted out ten pounds, her half-yearly 
salary, and paid it to her. 

“ The house is furnished throughout, I suppose v ’ he 
said. 

“ Yes, sir. Shall I show it to you ?” 

“ I will bring in the lady, Mrs. Blees, and we will go 
over the cottage together,” replied Lowder. “ I wish to 
see her settled before I leave, as she is a particular 
friend of Mr. Tressilian !” 

He hurried out to the post-chaise and bade Hester 
alight, himself taking her boy. He then said to the 
driver : 

“ There’s a sort of inn down at the hamlet. Go there, 
my good man, and refresh yourself and the beasts. 
Come for me in an hour.” 

He tossed him a half-sovereign, at sight of which all 


PUT A. WAY. 


19 


the gloom and discontent left the man’s face, and he 
lifted his hat, saying he would return by the time indi- 
cated. 

As he drove away, Lowder conducted Hester up the 
garden walk. Mrs. Tooker opened the front door to admit 
them, and they entered the narrow, well-lighted hall. 

“ This is the lady I mentioned — Mrs. Blees, Mrs. 
Tooker,” said Lowder. “ Mrs. Blees, I have engaged 
this good woman to remain with you as housekeeper, 
and so on, and I have no doubt you will be very com- 
fortable with her.” 

Mrs. Tooker was charmed with the lady -like and 
unaffected appearance of the new tenant of Gloam 
Fell. Her heart warmed to Hester at first sight, and 
she led the way into the warm kitchen, well pleased 
with her own prospects as housekeeper to this gentle, 
sweet-faced, yet sad young creature. 

Lowder laid down the now sleeping boy upon a 
wooden settle, and Mrs. Tooker proposed to show them 
over the cottage. Accepting her guidance, the wedded 
pair made an examination of the various rooms. 

Up stairs the rooms were but illy furnished, but on 
the lower floor an appearance of high comfort pre- 
vailed. The parlor was a pleasant apartment, with 
three casement windows, set with tiny diamond panes. 
It had a worn red carpet, a suit of hair-cloth furniture, 
a luxurious chintz-covered lounge of simple manufac- 
ture, a few silhouettes on the walls, and a great, ample 
hearth and a yawming chimney, intended for wood-fires. 

Adjoining the parlor was a cozy sitting-room, also 
neatly although cheaply furnished. Hester proposed 
to make this apartment her bed-room, and use the 
parlor as her daily sitting-room. She was interested 
immediately in the arrangement of her new home, 
where she hoped her husband would often come to visit 


20 


GUY TRESSILIAN’S FATE. 


her, and engaged in a discussion with Mrs. Tooker as to 
various improvements she was resolved to make. 

While the two woman were thus engaged, Lowder 
strolled out of doors, visiting the stable, where a stout 
old horse was kept, and surveying the scenery closely. 

It was a lonely, dreary place — Gloam Fell. There 
were no near neighbors. The hamlet could be seen 
plainly a mile distant, at the base of the mountain on 
whose side Gloam Fell was situated. Far and near 
stretched the mountain fields used for sheep runs. 

About a mile further up the mountain, perched upon 
a solitary elevation, was a mansion of considerable pre- 
tensions, in the midst of a small private estate ; it looked 
like the shooting-box of some wealthy gentleman. And 
when Lowder returned to the cottage, he inquired of 
Mrs. Tooker to whom the place belonged. 

“ That is Bleak Top, sir,” said the woman, looking 
from the window in the direction he indicated. u It is 
a hunting-box, and belongs to the heiress of an old and 
wealthy family, the last of her line. Her name is 
Rymple, sir— Miss Olla Rymple.” 

“ Miss Olla Rymple !” repeated Lowder. “ An odd 
name.” 

“ Yes, sir ; but one of the noblest, sweetest, and most 
beautiful girls in all England, I hear,” remarked Mrs. 
Tooker. “ She has other estates, sir, and none of the 
Rymples ever staid at Bleak Top, except in the grouse 
season.” 

A fire had been made in the parlor, and Hester and 
her boy had retired to their especial domain. Lowder 
joined them. He explained how necessary it was that 
he should return immediately to Tressilian Court, “ to 
make restitution of the stolen money to Guy Tressilian, 
and to secure his own immunity from punishment.” 
Timid as she was, Hester bravely acquiesced in the 


INTERCEPTED. 


21 


proposed immediate separation. She promised anew 
to bear in mind and to obey all her husband’s injunc- 
tions ; to make no friends nor confidants ; to avoid utter- 
ing the name of Guy Tressilian or Jasper Lowder, and 
to be continually on her guard ; and not to leave Gloam 
Fell until her husband ordered her departure. 

The hour was soon passed. The post-chaise arrived 
at the gate, and Lowder took his leave of wife and child. 

“ They are disposed of !” he muttered contentedly, 
as he rode swiftly away on his return to Alnwick. 
“ They are the same as dead and buried here. And 
now for Tressilian court and pretty, golden-haired 
Blanche !” 


CHAPTER II. 

INTERCEPTED. 

Olla and her friends were early astir on the morning 
subsequent to their arrival at the Vesuvius Inn, and 
were ready for departure by the time the buxom 
Giuditta made her appearance in Olla’s sitting-room 
with the breakfast things. 

“ I beg your pardon, Signorina,” said the wily Italian, 
as she deftly spread the table-cloth and proceeded to 
lay upon it the napkins and dishes, “ but is not your 
name Miladi Reemple ?” 

Olla started in swift surprise. 

“ Why do you ask that ?” she questioned. 

“ Because — I will be frank, Signorina,” responded 
Giuditta, who had her lesson by heart. “ There is a 
noble Inglese arrived in Naples in search of his runaway 


22 


GUY TRESSILIAN’S FATE. 


ward — is not that the word ? He is a Signor Gower, 
from Sicily. Ah, you start again and turn pale ! 
Perhaps you know him. He seeks a Miladi Reemple 
with her servants and an imbecile Inglese named Low- 
dair,” and she glanced at Guy Tressilian. 

Olla turned pale. She did not doubt but that Mr. 
Gower had pursued her to Naples, instead of going to 
Marseilles.” 

“ Is he here ?” she cried, springing up into a defiant 
attitude. “ Is he at this inn ?” 

“ No, Miladi,” returned Giuditta, with apparent 
meekness. “The great Inglese Signore would not 
visit our poor out-of-town inn. He would not expect 
to find the runaway Signorina here. But Giacomo, my 
brother, Miladi, who has just come from his morning’s 
marketing in Naples, says that the Signore Gower 
arrived at Naples last night, and that he has visited all 
the hotels and made inquiries for the runaway Signorina. 
and he has stationed the police at all the docks and at 
the railway station to watch and intercept the poor 
young lady. If she is in Naples she will be found and 
captured to-day. It was a spy-police who told Giacomo, 
and asked him if he had seen these runaways.” 

Olla’s high courage for a moment faltered. Had she 
dared and done so much to be captured now ? It 
seemed to her that she was completely hemmed in — 
that there was no way of escape for her. She resolved 
to throw herself upon the generosity and compassion of 
her hostess. 

“ Signora,” she said tremulously, “ I am that runaway 
Signorina. I am Miss Rymple. I beg you to befriend 
me. Believe me, I am able to pay for any service you 
may do me, and you will earn my undying gratitude. 
This man Gower is my treacherous guardian. He 
abuses his authority by daring to urge upon me his 


INTERCEPTED. 


23 


love. He has persecuted me until I can bear no more. 
I would rather die than be recaptured by him !” 

“Such spirit !’’ cried Giuditta, in an apparent rapture 
of admiration, as she regarded the lovely, glowing face, 
the great midnight eyes, full of pleading, the small, 
noble, drooping head. “ He shall not recapture you, 
Miladi. Giuditta will defend you with her life. And 
yet,” she added, sighing, “ what can I do ? The police 
will be here to-day to search my house for you. I shall 
be arrested, if I am found harboring a runaway ward !” 

“ And I shall die if Mr. Gower recaptures me,” cried 
Olla despairingly. 

Tressilian, marking her manner, uttered a mournful 
cry, full of sympathy. 

“ Are things so bad as that ?” inquired Giuditta. 
“You cannot be seen in Naples. You cannot leave by 
boat or rail, Signorina for the police will capture you. 
I cannot keep you here. Capture in that case is equally 
inevitable. What is to be done ? Ah, I have it ! You 
can cross the country, Signorina, in a carriage. You 
can go to Termoli, and take the train from there to 
Ancona, Bologna, Turin, and so on to France. It is an 
admirable plan — ” 

“ Admirable !” echoed Olla, her face brightening. 
“ As Mr. Gower has no doubt forestalled me, I cannot 
go to the British consul at Naples, even if I were sure of 
gaining his residence unharmed. My only course is 
flight. I should like to start immediately. Can we pro- 
cure a conveyance ?” 

“ Oh, yes, miladi. I know a man, one Lipari, as 
honest as the day. I will send Giacomo for him, and 
he will convey you in his voiture to Termoli.” 

It will be observed that Giuditta had changed the 
proposed destination of Olla from Chieti, as had been 
agreed upon between the innkeeper and the Red Car- 


24 


GUY TRESSILIAn’8 FATE. 


velli, but this change was merely to deceive the young 
fugitive. Chieti was not a railway station, and “ Miladi 
Reemple ” might be aware of the fact. If she were not 
so aware, she might have a Bradshaw to inform her. At 
any rate, Giuditta considered that it would be w r ell to 
make her story plausible. 

Excusing herself on the ground that she must send 
Giacomo to the friendly driver to whom she had alluded, 
Giuditta withdrew, hastening down stairs to inform the 
worthy Palestro of her success. Giacomo was dis- 
patched in quest of Lipari and his voiture, and the 
hostess returned to her guests bearing the tray laden 
with the breakfast. 

Olla and Tressilian took their places at the table, and 
Olla forced herself to eat for Guy’s sake. He looked 
so woful at sight of her troubled face, that the girl 
affected a gayety she could not feel. 

While, the pair was thus busy, the Popleys were eating 
their breakfast in the regular dining-room of the inn. 
As soon as they had finished, Mrs. Popley returned to 
her young mistress, who hastened to inform her of the 
changed state of affairs. 

Restraining the lamentations she felt that she could 
indulge in without effort good Mrs. Popley protested 
her satisfaction that a way of escape was still open. 

By the time the travellers were fully equipped, the 
voiture arrived. The driver entered the inn, and 
received his private instructions from Palestro and his 
wife, moistened his throat with a glass of wine, and 
returned to his vehicle. Giuditta came up and 
announced to the fugitives that the voiture waited. 

Popley burdened himself with the scanty luggage and 
led the way out to the carriage. Guy and Olla followed, 
Mrs. Popley bringing up the rear. 

Olla had already settled her bill, and now, in shaking 


INTERCEPTED. 


25 


hands after the English fashion with her treacherous 
hostess, she left in the palm of the latter a liberal pres- 
ent of money. 

“ I shall not forget your kindness, Signora,” she said, 
leaning out of the carriage window. “ You shall hear 
from me when I get to England.” 

The Italian woman expressed her thanks, and Mrs. 
Poplev and Guy entered the carriage. Popley mounted 
beside the driver, and amid the low salaams of Palestro, 
Giuditta and Giacomo, the travellers drove away. 

Their journey for the next two hours was uneventful. 
They passed pleasant country villas, thrifty vineyards, 
lonely and squalid cottages, women with burdens on 
their heads, half-naked children, and all the features 
that go to make up Italian scenery. The volcano, the 
mountains, the valleys — all these would have attracted 
the earnest attention of Olla at any other time, but now 
she had no thought save that of gratitude for her escape 
from the supposed peril that had threatened her. 

The progress of the travellers was either not so swift, 
or the distance was greater than Giuditta had thought. 
They had left the Vesuvius Inn at eight o’clock, instead 
of ten, as Olla had designed, and it was noon when they 
approached the narrow and gloomy gorge where the 
Red Carvelli lurked with his men, waiting the travel- 
lers’ coming. 

“ We must stop at the first hamlet for food,” said 
Olla. “ I wonder I did not think to bring a basket of 
food with us. It is a distance of ninety miles from 
Naples to Termoli. We shall probably have to change 
horses.” 

“ We must have come half the distance already, Miss 
Olla,” said Mrs. Popley. 

“ Not quite. We may have come forty miles, not 


26 


GUY TRESSILIAN’S FATE. 


more. I begin to feel hungry. I wonder if there is no 
hamlet near ?” 

She looked out in quest of some human habitation, 
but all around her were the wild and desolate features 
of mountain scenery. The Mont del Matese frowned 
above them Their road, rugged and at points danger- 
ous, wound over ravine and fissures, a look into which 
would have terrified a timid person. It was a strange 
and romantic spot, a remnant of chaos, a wild and often 
forbidding scene, and Olla felt her spirits depressed as 
she gazed upon it. 

She was about to request the driver to stop at the 
first house he encountered, if any house could be found 
in these wilds, when the voiture rattled swiftly down a 
steep and gloomy ravine, where dwarfed trees grew, 
and where great boulders of rock cropped out from the 
thin layer of soil. 

The opposite steep looked formidable. The driver 
cracked his whip and uttered a shrill cry to his horses, 
and essayed to climb the hill. The horses had not taken 
three steps in the ascent, however, when a great shout 
rang through the ravine, and a half-dozen men sprang 
out from the shelter of rocks and bushes, and their 
leader commanded Lipari to halt. 

Being one of their confederates, the driver of course 
halted. 

These men were the Red Carvelli and five of his 
band. 

Their garb proclaimed their character. The brigand 
ciiief had changed his peasant garments for a jaunty 
jacket and trowsers of velvet. He wore a tall, sugar- 
loaf hat, of the style affected by bandits, and in this was 
stuck a long plume. His men were dressed in similar 
style, but with humbler materials, and they wore no 
feathers. 


INTERCEPTED. 


27 


The Red Carvelli doffed his hat and approached the 
window of the voiture. His terrible visage wore a 
smile, but the smile was less agreeable than his frown. 
As his small, keen eyes rested upon Olla’s gloriously 
lovely face, a dull, red gleam appeared in them, and a 
look of intense admiration took possession of his coun- 
tenance. 

“ Pardon, Miladi,” he said, with a sudden courtesy 
for which he was by no means noted. “ I am sorry to 
trouble you — ” 

Olla comprehended his character at once. She sup- 
posed him to be one of the brigands with which poor 
fallen Italy is infested. She had no money to spare on 
a “ forced loan” like this, and she returned the Red Car- 
velli’s stare with a defiant, undaunted glance. Perhaps 
she knew that tears and prayers would not avail with 
this sinister-browed man. At any rate, it was not in 
her nature to try either. 

“ You are sorry to trouble me,” she said, in better 
Italian that he employed, as he hesitated, “ but you want 
my money, or my life ! Is not that it ?” 

“ No, Signorina, you wrong me !” protested the brig- 
and. “ I have no designs against the life of one so 
young and beautiful. I want your money — ” 

“You will have to continue to want it,” flashed Olla, 
undauntedly and haughtily. “ My money belongs to 
me, and I intend to keep it. Why should I give up my 
own money to great lazy, hulking fellows like you ? If 
you want money, earn it. I’d be ashamed even if I were 
a thief, to rob a girl !” 

“ I am no thief !” asserted the insulted brigand. I-—” 

“If you are not a thief, then move off !” said Olla 
coolly. “ Don’t you see you are stopping us ?” 

“ I am not a thief,” again declared the Red Carvelli, 


28 


GUY TRESSILIAN S FATE. 


“ but I am a brigand of terrible repute. I am the Red 
Carvelli, with whose name all Naples is ringing.” 

“ I never heard it,” said Olla, to the brigand’s intense 
mortification. “And it makes no difference who you 
are'. If you are not going to rob us, you had better 
move on.” 

“ I must have the Signorina’s money—” 

“ Not if 1 know it !” said Olla, surveying the fellow 
coolly with her great dusky eyes. “ You had better not 
try it. I have a use for my money myself, and I don’t 
propose to part with it at present. I shall fight in de- 
fence of my property with such tools as nature has 
supplied, hands and feet and teeth, if necessary. Take 
my advice, my tfiieving friend, and go on.” 

The girl’s bright audacity charmed the brigand chief. 
To conceal his weakness from the eyes of his men, who 
were equally astonished at Olla’s cool defiance, he or- 
dered Guy to give him his purse. 

Poor Guy only replied by a melancholy, half-frightened 
look, that sufficiently declared his state of mind. 

“ He has no money,” said Olla. “ He is unfortunate, 
as you see. The two others are my servants. I carry 
the money for all. Take it if you can !” 

She folded her arms across the front of her little seal- 
skin jacket, and looked defiance at the Red Carvelli. 

He replied by a long admiring stare. 

“ You are a trump, Signorina !” he ejaculated. “ Na- 
ture meant you to be in our line — a Bandit Queen, or 
something of that sort. Per Bacco ! You have the 
spirit of a man — ” 

“Humph! That’s a doubtful compliment, seeing 
that you are a man !” said the audacious little Olla. 

“ She dares to beard the Red Carvelli !” cried the 
brigand, more and more enamored of the bright, bold 
young girl. “She is a prize. You may keep your 


INTERCEPTED. 


29 


money, Signorina, and I will take you ! Be pleased to 
alight." 

But Olla refused. It was not until Popley had been 
dragged down from the box and bound ; not till Mrs. 
Popley had been forced to descend from the vehicle, 
and was also bound, and they were dragging out poor 
Guy, that she showed signs of yielding. 

“ Do not lay a finger on him !” she commanded, with 
a haughty gesture. “ Do not touch him. Since my 
servants are captive, I will follow them. But do not 
lay a hand upon this poor young man, I command you !” 

“Do not touch him, comrades !” ordered the Red 
Carvelli. “ Let the little lady have her way." 

Olla quietly descended alone. Guy followed her. 
The brigand chief then addressed the driver of the voi- 
ture. 

“Be off!” he cried. “And be thankful you escape 
with your life. Off with you !” 

Lipari winked knowingly at the chief, turned his 
equipage, and set off smartly on a return to Naples. 

Olla and her party looked after him in dismay. 

“The horses !” said the Red Carvelli, in an authori- 
tative voice. 

The men plunged into the thicket, presently return- 
ing mounted, each man leading an extra horse. 

Two of these animals were equipped with lady’s sad- 
dles. The brigand chief with eager politeness assisted 
Olla to mount one of these. Mrs. Popley was helped 
into another. Popley was mounted, as was Guy. The 
Red Carvelli mounted last of all. 

“ Humph !” said Olla, with a gleam of suspicion. 
“ Four horses ! And there are four of us prisoners. 
Two lady's saddles ! And two women to occupy them ! 
A very singular coincidence, if it is a coincidence !” 

vShe looked sharply at the brigand chief. He avoided 


30 


GUY TRESSILIAn’s FATE. 


her glance, and occupied himself in taking possession 
of a strap by which to lead her horse. 

One of the brigands led Guy’s horse similarly. The 
Popleys were secured from all possibility of flight by 
the same precaution. 

“ No doubt, Miladi,” said the Red Carvelli, “ you have 
heard a great deal about Italian brigands. You are 
now about to become acquainted with them personally. 
I am going to take you to our haunts, and you can study 
at your leisure the merry monarchs of the road.” 

“ One moment,” said Olla. “ Suppose I were to give 
you my money ?” 

“ Too late. I want you now,” and the Red Carvelli 
smiled with a terrible significance. “ Too late, Signor- 
ina. Your fate is sealed. Forward, men !” 

The party of bandits, leading their prisoners, plunged 
into the ravine, riding in nearly single file along an 
almost imperceptible path toward the mountain fast- 
ness of the Red Carvelli and his terrible band. 


CHAPTER III. 

A MOUNTAIN FASTNESS. 

The brigands, following their chief, the Red Carvelli, 
and keeping a tight hold upon the horses of their prison- 
ers, continued to ride along the narrow path at right 
angles with the road on which Olla and her friends had 
been travelling, and following the course of the rugged 
and tortuous ravine. They thus traversed several miles, 
winding about the mountain side as it seemed, and grad- 
ually ascending the acclivity. 

At length, as by a common instinct, the brigands 


A MOUNTAIN FASTNESS. 


31 


halted in a little dell, through which a mountain tor- 
rent flowed noisily, and where the walls of the ravine 
arose steeply on either side, bristling with stunted trees 
and shrubbery. 

It was past noon, and the sun’s rays were withdrawn 
from the depths of the gulch which they had temporarily 
lighted. There was a damp in the air, and a sort of 
twilight reigned. The spot seemed a sepulchre. 

Olla, who had carefully marked the route by which 
she had been brought, examined the little dell curi- 
ously. 

The voice of the brigand chief interrupted her scru- 
tiny. 

“ Genarro, let the two servants be blindfolded,” com- 
manded the Red Carvelli. 

One of the brigands produced from his capacious 
pockets a supply of red woolen cloth. He rode up to 
Popley, who, bound and helpless, could of course offer 
no resistance, and proceeded to bind a heavy band of 
the cloth over Popley ’s eyes. This operation was per- 
formed so skillfully that its victim could not distinguish 
even a ray of light when it was concluded. 

Mrs. Popley was then blinded in a similar manner. 

Genarro then rode toward Olla, who backed her 
horse, her great midnight eyes flashing defiance at him. 

“ Don’t you dare to touch me !” she cried haughtily. 
“ Your hands off, if you please.” 

“ Back, Genarro !” shouted the brigand chief. “Do 
not lay hands on the lady.” 

Genarro, a low-browed ruffian, retreated slowly, in 
some confusion, and then moved toward Tressilian. 

“ You need not bind his eyes either,” said the brigand 
chief. “ He is a helpless imbecile. And, besides, it is 
doubtful if he ever leaves the retreat.” 


32 


GUY TRESSILIAn’s FATE. 


Genarro inclined his head, and retreated to his place 
at the rear of the little cavalcade. 

The Red Carvelli, giving the signal to resume the 
march, rode on through the little dell and entered the 
narrow throat or gorge beyond. 

Continuing their course through the gorge for the dis- 
tance of a half mile, the brigands came to a halt, and 
prepared to dismount. 

Evidently they had arrived at their journey’s end. 

A silver whistle was suspended by a cord around the 
neck of the brigand chief. He raised the whistle to his 
lips and blew upon it a shrill call, clear and piercing. 

A similar call came in response, seeming to find vent 
from the solid wall at their right. 

“ All is well,” said the Red Carvelli, leaping from his 
saddle. “ We will go on.” 

His followers all dismounted, and assisted the cap- 
tives to the ground. 

Genarro led away the horses further up the gorge, 
soon disappearing from Olla’s view behind a projecting 
rock. 

“ Come,” said Carvelli, taking Olla’s hand in his 
strong grasp. “ This way.” 

He led her toward the steep, straight wall, and Olla 
now perceived that its surface was irregular, and that 
secure footholds were afforded in its face, although they 
were not apparent to an ordinary observer. 

The brigand chief climbed the rock with the agility of 
a chamois. Shaking off his grasp, Olla followed him, 
not once losing her footing, and behind her came poor 
Guy Tressilian, the remaining brigands, and the Popleys. 

At a distance of some twenty feet from the bottom of 
the gorge, a rock projected from the solid wall, com- 
pletely screening an aperture behind it. This aperture 
it appeared, was the entrance to a cavern extending into 


A MOUNTAIN FASTNESS. 


33 


the bowels of the mountain. A more cleverly concealed 
retreat could not have been imagined, for it was not 
until they were within five feet of it that keen-eyed 
Olla even detected the existence of the opening. And a 
more secure retreat also could not have been devised, 
for one man, sheltered by the door-like projection cov- 
ing the aperture completely, could have held a besieg- 
ing army at bay. 

Carvelli mounted to the aperture, disappeared be- 
hind the rock projection, and halted until Olla had 
gained his side. 

“ Now give me your hand,” he said. 

“ Thank you, no,” said Olla independently. “ You 
may lead and I will follow, but I won’t touch your 
hand, if you please.” 

“ You are a regular little vixen,” observed the brig- 
and chief admiringly. “ A little shrew — a perfect young 
termagant. But you suit me. I never did like your 
milk-and-water women, one of the clinging vine 
sort, that wheedle and cloy you with their sickish 
sweetness. Give me an independent, spirited creature^ 
who dares to say i I will ’ and ‘ I won’t,’ and who won’t 
stand nonsense from anybody — like you, in short, Sig- 
norina.” 

“ Thanks for your good opinion,” said Olla coolly. 
“ And now, if you’ll lead on, we will penetrate into 
your robber den. Give me your hand, Jasper,” she 
added, addressing Tressilian, who had come up. 

Carvelli entered the aperture, which was high enough 
to permit his ingress in a nearly upright position. Olla 
crept in after him, holding Tressilian’s hand. The 
brigands, with the remaining prisoners, brought up the 
rear. 

The passage was but a few feet in length, and gave 
admittance into a dim, rocky vestibule, where a lamp, 


34 


GUT TEES SILT AN S FATE. 


secured to the side wall, was burning, and where a man, 
in the picturesque costume of the brigands, was waiting, 
evidently on duty as sentinel. It was he who had 
responded to his leader’s shrill call. 

“ Had you good luck, Captain ?” asked the guard, 
regarding the prisoners narrowly. 

“ Very good. Did you ever know me to fail ?” 
demanded the chief, good-humoredly. 

The guard replied heartily in the negative, and the 
chief traversed the vestibule, opened a door hung in the 
rocky wall, and passed into an inner chamber. 

This was the principal cavern of the robber’s retreat. 

It was a long, high apartment, irregular in shape, 
with irregular walls and irregular ceiling. It was 
lighted by a dozen lanterns which depended by rude 
chains from the rocks overhead ; and also by a great 
fire which blazed and burned at the side of the cham- 
ber, dispensing a great heat, which dissipated the chill 
peculiar to a subterranean room. 

The cavern was occupied by some fifteen men, all 
dressed in the manner we have described as character- 
izing Olla’s captors. A stranger crew than this it would 
have been hard to find. On every swarthy brow of the 
assembly was the brand of the outlaw. Every pair of 
eyes had in them the reckless, hunted, dare-devil look 
that proclaimed their social position. They looked like 
so many Cains and Ishmaels — their hands against every 
man, and every man’s hand against them. Desperate, 
hardened and lawless, they were social pariahs, and 
delighted in being so. 

They were lounging about, engaged in various occu- 
pations, but all paused and looked up as the Captain 
entered, followed by his prisoners and followers. 

In an instant a busy hum of voices, in questioning 
and response, filled the great cavern. 


A MOUNTAIN FASTNESS. 


35 


“ Who is she ? who is she ?” was the cry that rang 
louder than the rest, as the outlaws marked the slight 
figure of the chief captive. “ A princess ? A great 
lady ?” 

Olla withdrew herself from the bustle and clamor, 
clinging tightly to Tressilian’s hand, and surveyed the 
groups with a cool and dauntless gaze. 

It may be that her heart sank within her ; it is certain 
that she comprehended all her peril ; but there was no 
betrayal of fear in her attitude or expression. Her small 
head, with its jetty tresses, was haughtily poised on the 
slender neck, and a smile of bitterness and scorn curved 
her lips. 

The brigand chief did not appear to relish the sensa- 
tion caused among this rude gang by her glorious 
beauty ; nor did he appear pleased with the admiring 
exclamations, that resounded on every side. The girl 
he meant as his own prize, and already he was jealous 
of every admiring glance bestowed upon her. 

“ Let the girl alone !” he growled. “ She is tired, 
and — and scared — ” 

A derisive laugh rang through the cavern, and this 
deepened into a positive shout as Olla’s lip curled in 
indignant defiance. 

“ She scared !” cried the brigand who was second in 
command to Carvelli. “ She is about as scared as a 
young lioness when she first sees her puny enemies. 
Scared? Not much !” 

It was evident that Olla’s courage had excited as great 
an admiration as her beauty. 

The face of the brigand chief flushed with annoyance. 

“Give me a lantern,’* he said. “I will show the 
prisoners to their cells.” 

A lantern was brought to him, and bidding Olla fol- 


36 


GUT TRESSILIAN’S FATE. 


low him, he stalked down the length of the great cavern, 
and led the way into a passage beyond. 

The captive followed, still clinging to Tressilian’s 
hand. The two Popleys, whose bonds had been removed 
and whose eyes had been unbandaged on entering the 
underground apartment, also followed in silence and 
with faces darkened by a terrible gloom. 

The inner passage was short, and gave admittance 
into a nearly circular chamber, where were stored boxes, 
barrels and bales, all filled with the acquisitions of Car- 
velli’s long years of plunder. 

Off this circular room several massive wooden doors 
opened. These were all provided with stout chains and 
padlocks. 

The brigand chief opened one of these doors and 
motioned Olla to enter. The young girl peeped in 
warily. It was a bare and gloomy little cell, without 
outlet other than the door at whose threshold they 
stood. 

“ No,” said Olla gravely, “ that one won’t do. Show 
us the others.” 

Carvelli stared at her in amazement. 

“ It won’t do ?” he ejaculated. 

“ Not by any means,” said Olla, shaking her head. 
“ I think too much of myself to go into a den like that. 
But of course you don’t know how to treat a lady. One 
can’t expect to make a silk purse out of the ear of a 
porine quadruped !” 

Carvelli looked bewildered. 

“ The — the room don’t suit you then ?” he ejaculated. 

“ Of course it don’t.” 

“ Perhaps the Signorina takes this to be the Hotel 
delle Crocelli,” suggested the brigand chief, with a 
mocking sarcasm. 

“ Oh, no, I am not so ‘ scared ’ as that,” said Olla 


A MOUNTAIN FASTNESS. 


37 


quietly. “ I take it to be a refuge of outlaws, but you 
certainly must have stolen enough to be able to fit out 
a room decently. And, besides,” she added, coming to 
the point, “ I won’t be separated from my friends !” 

“ You won’t, eh ?” 

“ No, I won’t,” declared Olla coolly, sitting down upon 
a bale of woolen blankets that was conveniently at 
hand. “ You must give us rooms adjoining, with the 
door unlocked between — ” 

“ She does take this to be the Hotel delle Crocelli,” 
cried Carvelli, turning up his eyes. “ Signorina, I 
regret that I cannot accommodate you in the manner you 
desire — ” 

“ Then we’ll stay here !” interrupted the little lady, 
who saw but one way to effectually manage her savage 
captor, and that way was to treat him with bold defiance. 
“ I dare say that we can manage to get along in this 
apartment for the short period of our stay.” 

Carvelli grinned. 

“ Well,” he said, “ as you are so determined, I must 
give in. But you are the first person I ever yielded to, 
Miladi.” 

He glanced around the room. There were three or 
four of the brigands— of the number of those who had 
assisted in Olla’s capture — standing about near the 
mouth of the passage. They were all witnessing with 
delight the subjugation of their dreaded master by the 
willful little foreigner. 

“ Doctor,” called the chief. 

One of the men, a wiry little ruffian, sprang for- 
ward. 

Carvelli tossed him a bunch of keys. 

“ Open the doors of the two rooms that adjoin each 
other,” commanded the chief. “ And you may spread 


38 


GUY TRESSILIAN’s FATE. 


a carpet in one of the rooms. And you may put a pile 
of soft blankets in one room — ” 

“ In both rooms, Doctor,” interposed Olla, with the 
air of mistress. 

The Doctor, as he was styled, he being the physician 
of the company and possessed of a certain rude skill in 
surgery, looked inquiringly at his master. The latter 
bit his lips, as he said : 

“ In both rooms then. And you may cover the walls 
with carpet or blankets to make the place warmer. 
Boys, turn in and help. Be lively now.” 

The three or four brigands, under the Doctor’s lead- 
ership, procured lanterns from the main cavern and set 
to work to prepare the chambers indicated for the pro- 
posed occupancy. 

Carvelli sat down near Olla and Tressilian, wiping 
his brows. 

A few minutes sufficed to furnish the two cells, and 
the Doctor, announcing the completion of his task, the 
chief led his prisoners to their rooms. 

They were small and of similar size, some eighteen 
feet square, as nearly as might be measured. The 
walls of one of the rooms were draped with woolen 
blankets. A carpet loosely laid down covered the floor. 
A great pile of white and fleecy blankets were heaped 
up in one corner, and a table and several chairs com- 
prised the furniture. 

An open door led from this room into that adjoining. 
This latter apartment, designed for the use of Tressilian 
and Popley, contained only a great pile of blankets and 
a couple of chairs. Each room was provided with a 
lantern, which gave a sickly glare. 

“This is the best we can do, Signorina,” said Car- 
velli, ushering the prisoners into their cells. “ You can 
visit each other as much as you choose. I don’t intend 


A MOUNTAIN FASTNESS. 


39 


to be very hard on you unless you compel me to be. 
Make yourselves at home. I will come in to see you 
after dinner.” 

He bowed and withdrew, locking the doors of both 
the cells. 

Tressilian sat down on the nearest chair, looking at 
Olla, with a vague bewilderment. Popley and Mrs. 
Popley regarded their young mistress in dismay, the 
latter giving way to a nervous fit of weeping. 

“We are worse off thkn we were in Sicily,” she cried. 
“ What can this villain mean to do with us ? Oh, Miss 
Olla, he has fallen in love with you, and he is a million 
times worse than Mr. Gower.” 

“ I don’t know,” said Olla meditatively. “ He is 
bolder, to be sure. Well, perhaps he is worse.” 

“ Thank Heaven you are so brave, Miss Olla,” said 
Jim Popley, whose usually ruddy face was quite 
pale. “ Almost any one else would have cried and 
screamed — ” 

“And what good would that have done ?” demanded 
Olla. “ When one is in danger one needs all one’s 
wits. If I had wept and pleaded, this Red Carvelli, as 
he calls himself, would have oppressed us all, robbed us, 
perhaps killed us. It is not my way nor my nature to 
sit down and cry when I want all my courage and cool- 
ness, and as to allowing that head demon to see that I 
am afraid of him, I have too much self-respect and 
spirit to do it.” 

“ What will be your fate, Miss Olla ?” sobbed the poor 
old nurse. 

“ God above knows that,” responded Olla, with a 
reverent look upward. “ But as the matter is bad 
enough in itself, don’t let us make it worse, dear Mrs. 
Popley, by crying ourselves sick. And don’t let us 
gratify that old wretch by seeming frightened. If we 


40 


GUY TRESSILIAN S FATE. 


carry a high hand, we shall fare better than otherwise. 
The prospect of escape, I admit, looks a little dubious, 
but let us hope for the best. God has not forsaken us.” 

She kissed the tear-stained face of her old nurse, and 
the latter, under the influence of Olla’s bright hopeful- 
ness, began to appear more cheerful. Jim Popley also, 
in spite of the depressing situation, began to throw 
aside, or possibly conceal, his despondency. 

“ How pale and tired poor Jasper looks,” said Olla, 
marking the appearance of poor Guy Tressilian. “ His 
bandage is displaced over his wound. And where is his 
hat ?” 

“ It was lost when we were captured,” said Popley. 

“ He was behind me and I did not notice that his hat 
was gone,” said Olla. “ Can the sun have affected his 
head ?” 

“ I think not,” answered Popley. “ I will dress his 
wound, and put on the bandages in better shape.” 

He would have removed Tressilian into the inner 
room, but Olla requested him to remain. Popley took 
off the bandages carefully and laid bare the gaping, 
unhealed wound in the midst of the tawny locks of 
hair. 

He was about to apply some healing salve, when the 
door was unlocked and opened, and the “ Doctor ’’came 
in, bearing a big wooden tray of food. 

“ What have you there ?” he asked, depositing the 
tray on the table. 

Popley’s command of the Italian language not being 
adequate to the occasion, Olla answered : 

“ The gentleman received a severe wound on the head 
some weeks since. He was hurled by the waves, in a 
shipwreck, against a sharp rock. His brain is para- 
lyzed !” 

“ Ah !” said the doctor, his professional interest 


A MOUNTAIN FASTNESS. 


41 


excited. “ I suppose I’ve treated more wounds in the 
head than any other man in Italy. I studied to be a 
doctor once. It was at Milan. I had a regular genius 
for surgery, but I liked a wild life, and joined the band 
of the Red Carvelli. And here I have more broken 
heads to mend than I could have in any city. Odd how 
everybody, in a fight, aims at the head ; isn’t it ? I 
dare say now, I could cure this friend of yours.” 

“ I think not,” said Olla. “ Dr. Spezzo of Palermo, 
the great Sicilian doctor, could do nothing for him.” 

“ Dr. Spezzo has not had my experience in mending 
broken heads,” said the brigand doctor loftily. “ Let 
me look at the gentleman’s head.” 

Popley stepped aside to give him place. 

“ Just hold the lantern this way,” said the doctor. 

Popley took down the lantern and held it so that the 
rays fell full upon the gaping wound. 

“ A bad wound !” ejaculated the doctor. “ Very bad. 
No wonder Dr. Spezzo gave him up. Did the doctor 
say what was the matter in this case ?” 

“ He said that the brain was paralyzed, or some 
such thing,” said Olla. 

“ Nonsense. These big doctors like to treat you to 
big words. I can see all the trouble, Signorina. A 
piece of the skull is driven in on the brain. I might be 
able to help him ; I don’t know. But you could find 
some great English or French doctor that could restore 
him no doubt.” 

A glow of hope lit up Olla’s face. 

“ You think he is not hopelessly imbecile then ?” she 
cried. 

“ I don’t think he is. Of course, there are chances 
against his complete recovery ; a good many chances ; 
but I think he stands a good fair cnance of getting well. 


42 


GUY TRESSILIAN’s FATE. 


If the Signorina would allow me to probe the wound, or 
to make a fair examination of it, I might help him.” 

Olla hesitated. She studied the man’s face, but she 
saw in it only a professional zeal. Her anxiety forced 
her to consent to the examination, especially as she be- 
lieved the doctor to be honest, and not actuated by a 
desire to harm her charge. 

“ You may examine it,” she said slowly. “ But don’t 
hurt him.” 

The doctor drew from his pocket a case of surgical 
instruments, and selected one resembling a probe. He 
entered upon his task of examining Tressilian’s wound 
with a keen eye and a steady hand. 

“ A bad case,” he muttered. “ I see the cause of the 
trouble, but I don’t think I can reach it. Steady your 
hand there, you Inglese !” 

He continued his examination, Guy submitting to the 
pain with the patience that had distinguished him since 
his affliction had overtaken him . Olla watched the scene, 
pale as death, her hands clasped, her lips parted, her 
eyes having a wild and frightened gaze. Mrs. Popley 
covered her face with her hands. 

A few moments dragged on, seeming like an eternity 
to Olla. 

Then came a cry of joy from the doctor, followed by 
a shrill cry of agony from Guy Tre'ssilian. 

At the same moment, Tressilian sprang from his 
chair, bounded forward, and fell in a dead swoon upon 
the floor. 

The doctor wiped his blood-stained instrument upon 
his jacket, and restored it to his case. 

“ I haven’t cured him !” he exclaimed. “ I. raised 
tlie depressed piece of skull a little, Signorina, but it 
needs skill greater than mine to carry the operation 
through successfully. If you ever get out of here, and 


PALESTRO ON LOWDER’s TRAIL. 


43 


he lives, take him to some great surgeon. As for him 
now,” he added seriously, “ I have either helped him 
or killed him, I don’t know which.” 

Olla gave a great cry of terror. Popley set down 
his lantern and lifted poor Guy, carrying him to the 
pile of blankets, on which he laid him. The doctor ap- 
proached the couch and looked down upon the insensi- 
ble man. Then, muttering that he could do nothing 
more, and that he would not have the captain know 
what he had already done, he stole out of the cell 
softly, and with a terrified face, and locked the door be- 
hind him. 

“ He is dying !” moaned Olla, in all the anguish and 
horror of a great grief. “ And I have killed him ! 
Why did I let that charlatan touch him ? Oh, Jasper ! 
Jasper !” 

She knelt down beside him and laid her hand upon 
the still breast. He looked as if he were dead, lying 
white and cold and rigid. The Popleys gathered close 
to their young mistress, struck dumb by the chill horror 
of the scene. And the three waited for some change in 
the appearance of the Baronet’s son. Would the coming 
change be the last great change — that of death ? 


CHAPTER IV. 

PALESTRO ON LOWDER’S TRAIL. 

Lipari, the driver of the voiture in which Olla and 
her party had started, as they supposed for the Termoli, 
after betraying his passengers into the hands of the 
Red Carvelli and his men, made his way back on the 


44 


GUT TBESSILIAN’S FATE. 


road to Naples until he reached a small hamlet, where 
he halted an hour to rest and refresh himself and his 
horses. 

At the end of the period mentioned, he resumed his 
journey, arriving within sight of the Vesuvius Inn at 
about nine o’clock in the evening, his horses exhausted 
with the long, hard journey. 

The inn doors were open. The light streamed out 
from windows and door, and Lipari could hear the 
voices of the usual inn loungers. A few men sat by 
the tables under the mulberry-tree, smoking and drink- 
ing. Palestro, the ex-scrivener, was gliding about 
among his out-of-door guests, a big white apron 
enveloping his figure, and a tray of bottles and glasses 
on his arm. 

Lipari drove slowly past, whistling a bar of a popular 
melody. Palestro looked up at him, started almost 
imperceptibly, glanced at the empty voiture, and made 
a significant gesture with his hand, to which Lipari 
responded in kind. This was a signal between the 
precious pair that their plots had been successful, and 
that Olla and Tressilian were in the hands of the brig- 
ands. 

Palestro continued to wait upon his guests. Lipari 
drove on, disappearing down the road that led to the 
town. After a little, the ex-scrivener stole into the inn, 
signalled Giuditta to follow him into the pantry, and 
there informed her of Lipari’s success. 

“ Everything went right,” he muttered jubilantly. 
“ The girl is in Giuseppe’s hands. And one who has 
once felt the grip of the Red Carvelli knows that it 
cannot be lightly shaken off. He’ll get a good ransom 
for her, which we shall share, and the Inglese imbecile 
is our own game. There is no one to interfere with our 
gains from him.” 


PALESTRO ON LOWDER'S TRAIL. 


45 


The pair exulted over their good fortune for some 
minutes, and then, constrained by business and policy, 
separated, returning to their customers. 

At eleven o’clock, as was usual, all was still at the Vesu- 
vius Inn. The customers had all departed ; Giacomo 
had gone to bed ; and Palestro and Giuditta sat alone 
in their dim kitchen, counting the earnings of the day, 
and discussing the situation of Tressilian. 

They were thus engaged when a low knock was heard 
on the rear door. Giuditta arose, and admitted Lipari, 
the driver of the voiture. He told his story minutely, 
describing the scene of the attack and the capture of 
the prisoners, dilating upon the spirit of the Inglese girl 
and answering a host of questions breathlessly put to 
him by the innkeepers. When he had concluded, he 
was liberally treated to wine and cigars, and he arose, 
well satisfied, to take his departure. 

“ The captain’s always liberal,” he observed, lighting 
a cigar at the guttering candle. “ He will .make this 
all right when I see him, which will be next week, I 
suppose. Better warn him, Signora Giuditta, that there’s 
hot talk about him over at Naples, and the troops are 
bound to set out on an expedition against him in a day 
or two. But he’s safe at the retreat. Good -night to 
you, Signora, and Signore.” 

He put his cigar in his mouth and departed. 

Giuditta locked the door after him, and came and sat 
down upon a hard chair, facing her husband. 

“ Well,” she said, “ our golden goose is caged.’ 

“ It is indeed,” said Palestro. 

The pair looked at each other keenly. 

“ That imbecile is a gold mine to us, if we work him 
rightly,” declared Giuditta. 

“ Yes ; and I would defy all the troops of Italy to 
release him !” said Palestro. “ He is where we wanted 


46 


GUY TRESSILIAN’s FATE 


him ; safe under our own eye, as one might say, with 
no one to help or befriend him. He is caged for life !” 

“ You think,” said Giuditta, in a low voice, “ that he 
is this Sir Tresolino’s brother ?” 

“ I do. Milord Sir Tresolino pretended that he was 
but his travelling companion, but I think differently. 
See the arguments. The two men look alike, as though 
they were indeed brothers. This sick one is the hand- 
somest, the most gentlemanly. He is gentlemanly to 
the core, for a little outside varnish would have rubbed 
off after his illness. He is in no condition to affect 
what he is not by nature. And I marked a little fact. 
The linen of this imbecile Inglese was very fine and 
dainty ; his clothes of the best Paris cut ; and in all his 
appearance there was that which betokened one accus- 
tomed to wealth. No, no ; this imbecile Inglese is no 
mere hired travelling companion. I believe him to be 
the elder brother of the other.” 

“ The elder brother ?” 

“ Yes. Do you not know the Inglese laws ? It is 
that the elder son inherits his father’s title, wealth, 
everything. The younger son works for a living usu- 
ally, unless his mother kindly dies and leaves him any 
little money she may have in her own right. Now, I 
think that when this imbecile Inglese was injured, his 
brother went home and gave out that he was dead, and 
entered into possession of this one’s heritage. The 
thing is simple. I would have done it myself !” 

Giuditta’s eyes sparkled greedily. 

“I think you are right, Jacopo,” she cried. “And 
now, how are we to work our gold mine ? Of course 
you must go to England.” 

“ Of course. I must start by the 6.30 train in the 
morning, as there is no boat on Friday for Marseilles. 
I will go to England, to Gloucester, find Milord Sir 


PALESTRO ON" LOWDER’s TRAIL. 


47 


Tresolino, and when I return to you, Giuditta, I shall 
come home a rich man !” 

“ How well that you understand the Inglese lan- 
guage !” said Giuditta. “You have been a courier, and 
are used to travel. You will manage this business finely. 
Were you ever in England ?” 

“ I went to London once. I can travel anywhere.” 

“ I don’t doubt it. Be keen with this Inglese, 
Jacopo,” enjoined Giuditta. “He is sharp, but do you 
be sharper. Cut him, instead of letting him cut you !” 

The couple talked long, and Palestro’s course was 
laid out for him plainly by Giuditta, who regretted that 
she could not leave the inn to accompany him. A sum 
amounting to twenty pounds was counted out from their 
joint purse, to defray the expenses of Palestro’s journey, 
and to provide against contingencies, and they lost 
themselves in their gorgeous prospects, and planned 
what they would do with the fortune the ex-scrivener 
would bring back from England. 

The candle burned out at last, and they were left in 
darkness, but still they talked on. It was nearly two 
o’clock when they crept up to bed, but their imagina- 
tions were too excited to permit them to sleep, and they 
continued their discussion until the dawn, and it was 
time to be astir. 

Giuditta packed a small valise for her husband, Gia- 
como was called up to harness the horse, and at a quar- 
ter to six the ex-scrivener, accompanied by his “ half- 
wit ” brother-in-law, set out for Naples. 

And at half-past six o’clock of that sunny winter 
morning, Palestro, seated in a second-class compart- 
ment of the railway train, left Naples for England, via 
Rome and Leghorn. 

We need not dwell upon the small incidents of Pales- 


48 


GUY TRESSILIAN’s FA1E. 


tro’s journey by sea and land, to the country he 
expected would prove his Eldorado. 

Some five days later, not at all jaded, the wiry little 
Italian arrived at Gloucester. It was the morning of a 
day unusually fine for the country and the season. He 
made his way on foot from the railway station to a 
small coffee-house in a by-street, kept by a French- 
man, seeming to find a place suited to his tastes and 
purse by a sort of instinct. 

He called for a room, which was provided him. He 
changed his linen, brushed out his crisp black locks, 
burnished the rings in his ears, and brushed his gar- 
ments. His toilet was made. He descended to the 
coffee-room, and called for breakfast. 

The French proprietor, thinking possibly that the 
Italian was a newly-arrived compatriot, approached 
him when he had nearly finished his breakfast, and 
inquired with French politeness if he were not a 
stranger, and if any attention could be shown him. 

“ Yes, I am a stranger in Gloucester,” said the ex- 
scrivener, in French. “ But I ask no attentions, Signore. 
I leave town immediately. I was formerly a courier. 
I know many English gentlemen. I knew one Sir 
Tresolino, a rich Milord, who lived in this place. You 
may perhaps have heard of him ?” and he arched his 
brows inquisitively. 

. “ I never heard the name,” responded the French- 
man, shaking his head. “ Sir Tresolino what ? Or 
what Sir Tresolino ?” 

“That was all,” affirmed Palestro. “Sir Tresolino.” 

“ Tresolino is not an English name,” replied the 
Frenchman, “ and you have not quite caught the spirit 
of the language — the genius of the people, as one might 
say. It is necessary to give the two names after the 


PALESTRO ON LOWDER’s TRAIL. 


49 


Sir. You do not say Sir Smeet, but Sir John Smeet. 
Comprehend ?” 

Palestro nodded. 

“I see,” he muttered. “But the name of Tresolino 
must be known. The gentleman is a Milord.” 

“ Oh, then it will be easy to find him,” said the French- 
man cheerfully. “You wish much to find him ?” 

“ Yes. I thought perhaps I might get a situation 
with him. If not, I can go back to London,” declared 
Palestro, not willing that the importance of his business 
should transpire. “ I will hear of him at some draper’s, 
mercer’s, tailor’s, — some shop of some sort.” 

“ A stationer’s, perhaps,” suggested the Frenchman. 
“ Or at the post-office.” 

Palestro’s face lighted up with a sudden glow. 

“Yes, that is it !” he ejaculated. “ Thanks, Signore.” 

He paid his bill, inquired the way to the post-office, 
and sauntered out into the street, leaving his portman- 
teau until he should return for it. 

On his way to the post-office, he stopped in at a 
stationer’s shop and made inquiries after “ a rich Milord, 
one Sir Tresolino,” but the inquiry only provoked 
derisive laughter and elicited no information, and he 
hurried out and on, with a feeling that the task on which 
he had entered was of no ordinary magnitude. 

Making his way to the delivery-box of the post-office, 
and into the presence of the clerk, a tall young man 
with his hair parted in the middle, the scent of cigars 
about his garments, mingled with that of perfumery, 
and a manner calculated to strike the ordinary intruder 
with a species of awe, it was so pert and consequential, 
the ex-scrivener inquired : 

“ Can you give me the address of one Sir Tresolino, 
who lives in Gloucester — ” 

f( Know no such person,” interrupted the clerk curtly. 


50 


GUY TRESSILIAN'S FATE. 


Palestro’s heart grew faint. 

“ Not know him ?” he gasped. 

“No, sir,” and the clerk turned away. 

A sudden idea came to the Italian. 

“ Stay !” he called, putting out his hand. “ Can you 
give me the address of one Horroville, John Horroville ?” 

“ Cannot do it, sir. We cannot keep track of every 
person who has letters come to this office. You had 
better move on, sir. Don’t you see that lady behind you ? 
Move on !” 

And Palestro moved on, feeling as if a blow had been 
dealt him from which he would never recover. 

He went out into the open air, oppressed for breath. 
The cold wind revived him. He walked slowly up and 
down the street pondering the situation. 

“ No one knows him under either name he gave,” 
thought the ex-scrivener. “ His name is perhaps dif- 
ferent from either. He has cheated me. What is to be 
done now ?” 

He reflected intently. 

“ It is time for him to expect a letter from me,” he 
mused. “ It is ten days .since he got a line from me. 
And before that I wrote him regularly. He will be 
anxious. He will think something has happened to the 
imbecile Inglese. I may safely calculate that he will 
come for a letter to-day. And if not to-day then to-mor- 
row. I will be on the watch. He shall not escape me. 

He set his lips together grimly, and returned to the 
post-office. He slouched his hat over his eyes, and 
wound his gray woolen muffler over the lower part of 
his face. Stationing himself carelessly within view of 
the delivery-box, he waited. 

An hour passed— two hours. The disguised watcher 
had the patience of a sleuth-hound, and showed no sign 
of fatigue. 


PALESTRO ON LOWDEk’s TRAIL. 


51 


It was wearing- on toward noon, and the thin tide of 
people was still flowing and ebbing, when a tall, slender 
figure, muffled in a long greatcoat, the collar turned up 
over his ears, his hat drawn down over his brows, after 
a careless fashion, sauntered with a certain indolent grace 
into the post-office. 

For the first time since he had commenced his lonely 
watch, Palestro started. His eyes gleamed. 

“ It is he !” he whispered, and his face paled with his 
great joy and prospective triumph. 

Unconscious of the malignant espionage, Jasper 
Lowder — for the muffled stranger was he — approached 
the box, and asked in a low tone, which was perfectly 
audible to the breathless listener : 

“ Anything for John Harroville ?” 

The clerk make an investigation. 

“ Nothing, sir,” he answered. 

“ You are quite sure ?” questioned Lowder, in a voice 
still lower, and having in it a suspicion of anxiety. 

“ Quite sure,” declared the clerk. “ There is nothing 
for you.” 

Lowder turned away and left the building. 

Palestro strode after him with the stealthiness of a 
cat. 

“ Now to see where he goes !” he muttered. “ I’ll 
follow him the world over but that I unearth him in his 
burrow ! He is cunning, but I will be more cunning ! 
Lead on Milord Sir Tresolino! I follow !” 

Jasper Lowder hurried down the street, and after 
him, like his shadow, crept his spy and enemy. 



CHAPTER V. 

DISCOVERED. 

Jasper Lowder, all unconscious of hostile pursuit, 
walked hurriedly down the narrow city street, after 
his visit to the Gloucester post-office, and Jacopo Pales- 
tro, the Palermo ex-scrivener, continued to glide after 
him like his shadow. 

Gradually Lowder’s pace slackened, and he raised his 
hat, and turned down his coat collar, thus flinging off 
the slight disguise he always affected when on his 
secret expeditions to the post-office. 

There was a shade of anxiety upon the brow of the 
treacherous usurper, as there had been in his voice 
when reiterating his inquiry for letters. He had visited 
the post-office daily for the last three days, in the hope 
and expectation of receiving a letter from Palestro, and 
the non-arrival of the expected missive inspired him with 
a vague sense of peril. On the previous day he had 
received, instead of the letter he desired, a long and lov- 
ing epistle from poor Hester, who was striving hard to 
wait contentedly at her dreary northern refuge of Gloam 
Fell, where she had now been domiciled nearly a 
week. 

“ Can anything have happened ?*' thought Lowder, 
152 ] 


DISCOVERED. 


53 


with a shiver. “ Can some tourist have recognized 
Tressilian ? Can he have wandered off the rocks and 
been drowned ? Ah, if it might be so ! It would be 
just my good luck to have Tressilian die ! And when 
he dies, the last shadow fades from my path.” 

His thoughts and hopes, sinister as they were, 
brought a flush to his cheeks and a hopeful gleam to 
his eyes. 

It will be noticed that he did not count poor, simple, 
loving Hester as an obstacle in the way of his successes, 
or even of a fraudulent second marriage under his pres- 
ent assumed name. He knew but too well that his gentle 
young wife would sacrifice her life before willingly 
bringing any harm upon him. And he counted upon 
keeping her in ignorance of his present false position 
and pretensions. 

As we have said, it was nearly a week since Jasper 
Lowder had sequestrated his wife among the dreary 
wilds of the Cheviot Hills in Northumberland. After 
leaving Hester at Gloam Fell, he had hastened back to 
Gloucester and Tressilian Court, arriving home some 
thirty hours after his departure from it. No suspicion 
had been excited in the minds of Sir Arthur Tressilian 
or Blanche that anything was wrong with the supposed 
Guy. Lowder told them that he had been to see“ poor 
Mrs. Lowder ” off for the Continent; and no one ques- 
tioned that he had visited London, and on the errand 
specified. Both Sir Arthur and Blanche had com- 
mended his thoughtful kindness, and it was easy to see 
that Lowder stood higher in their esteem than before. 

Taking advantage of the favorable impression he had 
thus made, he had urged his suit upon Blanche with 
increased ardor, and the result of his pleadings was 
that the Baronet’s young ward had shyly consented to 
appoint the day for the proposed marriage. Sir Arthur 


54: guy tressilian’s fate. 

Tressilian had been called into the consultation, and 
despite his misgivings and his smouldering distrust of 
his supposed son, he had acquiesced in Blanche’s decis- 
ion, and the sixth day of February, not two months dis- 
tant, had been selected as the bridal day. 

The Baronet was not in favor of long engagements. 
He told himself that the faults he had observed in the 
character of the pretended Guy might be the result of 
physical weakness and want of memory, consequent 
upon the shock and injury received in that terrible 
shipwreck on the Sicilian coast. He was anxious to 
witness the consummation of the marriage which should 
place the burial stone upon the grave of his own dead 
hopes, but he was more than all solicitous for the hap- 
piness of Blanche. He marked the ardor of Lowder’s 
love for her, and believed that her affection and influ- 
ence would ennoble the character he begun to fear was 
sadly warped. 

The path of the usurper, strewn with flowers, seemed 
leading straight to the desired goal. Everything went 
well with him. No sooner had an obstacle arisen in his 
path than he had swept it aside as if it had been a cob- 
web. And now the marriage-day was appointed which 
was to give to his perjured arms a second bride while 
the first still lived. 

Would this monstrous wrong to two tender, innocent 
women be permitted ? Would not the justice of Heaven 
overtake the perjurer and villain before these lovely 
lives should be wrecked ? 

Jasper Lowder, exulting in his triumph, had no fear 
of Heaven’s justice. 

The interval before the wedding being short, the 
preparations for it were immediately inaugurated. 
Blanche and her guardian had therefore accompanied 
Lowder to Gloucester on this present occasion, the 


DISCOVERED. 


55 


former to transact shopping-, the Baronet to procure 
some needed books for his library, and to order up 
from London some choice gifts for his darling. 

Thoughts of his triumphs came to Lowder, soon dis- 
sipating his anxieties. 

“ If anything had gone wrong with Tressilian,” he 
thought, “ Palestro would have written. There was 
simply nothing to* write. I have been foolish to expe- 
rience even a moment’s disquiet. The fact is, I am dizzy 
with my successes.” 

He smiled complacently as he walked on, turning into 
a fashionable street, up which he strolled with the air 
of a fashionable lounger. 

And, after him, never losing sight of him, glided 
Palestro. 

Lowder made his way in the direction of a large 
dry goods establishment, before which the Tressilian 
barouche, a plain, unpretending, but luxurious vehicle, 
was in waiting. 

As Lowder approached the barouche from one direc- 
tion, Sir Arthur approached it from another. The two 
met at the carriage step. 

“ Have you transacted all your business, Guy ?” in- 
quired the Baronet. 

“All, sir. I had very little to do,” was the response. 
“ Are you ready to return home ?” 

“ Quite ready. Blanche said she required but a couple 
of hours this morning, and the two hours have expired. 
She will soon come out. We may as well take our seats.” 

As Sir Arthur spoke, he entered the silk-lined car- 
riage, depositing his small purchase of books under the 
seat. Lowder stood hesitatingly, with one foot on the 
carriage step. 

“ I think I ’ll go into the shop and look for Blanche,” 
he remarked. “There is no hurry for our return. 


56 


GUT TRESSILIAN 8 FATE. 


And if there is anything in the world I like to see, it is 
a pretty woman up to her eyes in delicate silks and 
laces, and in all the ecstasy of shopping with a full 
purse !” 

Sir Arthur smiled, and Lowder sauntered into the 
establishment. The Baronet took out one of his new 
books and tried to interest himself in its pages, but 
somehow the dainty face of Blanche seemed to dance 
before his eyes, to the exclusion of the printed words of 
wisdom. 

Palestro walked slowly past the carriage, and looked 
keenly and furtively at the handsome, stalwart Baronet. 
Then he sauntered back again, continuing his scrutinj^, 
and came to a halt at a little distance, where he leaned 
idly against a lamp-post, apparently waiting for some 
one, yet keeping a close watch upon the shop door. 

Presently Lowder came out again, with Blanche lean- 
ing upon his arm. 

Palestro looked at the young girl sharply, and his 
eyes gleamed as he marked her beauty and rich attire. 
In her costume of violet velvet, with a violet velvet hat, 
enriched with plumes, perched above her golden tresses 
and her fair and lovely face bright with animation, 
Blanche presented a charming picture, at the contem- 
plation of which the heavy jaws of the ex-scrivener 
parted in admiration. 

“A regular aristocrat, per Bacco !” he muttered. 
“ Is she his sister ? They look like lovers.” 

He moved a little nearer the carriage, keeping his 
face averted, and listening, hoping for some chance 
word from Lowder. 

“ Have I kept you waiting long, Guardy ?” he heard 
the young girl ask, in a sweet, chirping voice, as Low- 
der helped her into the barouche. “ I got bewildered 
between two rival silks, each blue, and each prettier 


DISCOVERED. 


57 


than the other. Guy kindly came to cut the Gordian 
knot by choosing- for me. Are you ready to go home ?” 

She sank down on the silken cushions, looking dainty 
and sweet in her violet velvet and rich ermines, and 
Lowder entered after her, seating himself opposite her. 
A shopman ran out with a parcel, which was stowed 
away, and he closed the low door, and Lowder called 
out in an indolent voice to the driver : 

“ Home !” 

The next instant the horses, tall, stylish, fat carriage 
horses, slow, but stately of motion, moved away at a 
walk. 

Palestro approached the shopman, who stood gazing 
after the retreating carriage with all the awe and ven- 
eration felt by lower-class Britons for rank and wealth. 

“Can you tell me, sir,” asked the ex-scrivener, 
removing his hat and bowing deeply, “ the name of the 
noble gentleman in yonder carriage ?” 

Palestro’s obsequiousness flattered the shopman. 

“ That is Sir Arthur Tressilian ofTressilian Court,” he 
said. 

“Ah !” said Palestro. “And the young man, who is 
he ?” 

“ Mr. Tressilian, Sir Arthur’s son.” 

The shopman being called at this juncture, abruptly 
returned to his duties, leaving Palestro to pursue his 
investigations in some other quarter. 

“I must not lose sight of him,” thought the wary 
scrivener. “ It will be the safest to follow him to his 
home.” 

The carriage being still within sight, he hurried after 
it at a brisk walk. Up one street and down another, 
and out toward the open country, went the slow ba- 
rouche, and behind it, at a good loping gait, came Jaco- 
po Palestro. 


58 


GUY TRESSILIAN S FATE. 


Mile after mile was thus passed, the pursuer now 
walking, now running. Notwithstanding the chilliness 
of the air, he was soon dripping with perspiration. He 
panted for breath. His greatcoat became burdensome 
upon his back, and he took it off, carrying it upon his 
arm. He loosened his muffler and neckcloth, and, thus 
stripped for the race, he kept on and on, now and then 
losing sight of the Tressilian barouche, now and then 
sitting down upon some wayside stone, or under some 
wayside hedge, to rest, but not once faltering in his grim 
pursuit. 

It was a long, hard journey, but it came to an end at 
last. Palestro was weary and footsore, his steps were 
flagging, and he was beginning to curse his own waning 
strength and the man who was unconsciously leading 
him this wild chase, when the hoary walls of Tressilian 
Court gleamed through the vistas of the park, and the 
lodge gates swung wide on their hinges, and the car- 
riage turned leisurely into the home grounds. 

“ Housed at last !” muttered Palestro, wiping his 
brows with his red silk handkerchief. “ I’ve tracked my 
game to his burrow. And a fine time I’ve had of it — a 
steady three hours’ trot ; but he shall pay me for it. 
Ah, yes, he shall pay !” 

He continued his walk more slowly, putting on his 
greatcoat and muffler. 

A few minutes’ further exertion brought him to the 
pretty, picturesque lodge which guarded the tall bronze 
gates at the road end of the avenue leading np to Tres- 
silian Court. The lodge was built of gray stone, was 
draped with clinging ivy vines, and had a small window 
projecting into the road. There was a door, with a hood 
also fronting the road. 

Palestro, after a 'moment’s debate with himself, 
walked boldly up to the door of the lodge and knocked. 


DISCOVERED. 


59 


The lodge-keeper’s wife, a motherly, elderly woman, 
opened the door, demanding what he wanted. 

“ I am very tired,” said the ex-scrivener, humbly and 
deprecatingly. “ I have come a long distance. Will 
you give me leave to sit by your fire for a few minutes ?” 

The woman surveyed him sharply. She was no friend 
to tramps, but Palestro’s evident fatigue appealed to her 
native kindliness. He was decently dressed, a foreigner 
evidently, and his sallow face was almost pale with 
weariness. She decided to admit him. 

“ Come in, sir, and take a seat by the fire,” she said, 
opening her door widely. 

Palestro bowed gratefully and entered the pretty, 
square room, with its floor laid in a mosaic pattern with 
party-colored woods, its great wood fire, sending out 
both light and heat, and its bright windows looking out 
at one side upon the road, and at another side upon the 
•beautiful grounds of Tressilian Court. 

The woman placed a tall-backed chair at the corner 
of the hearth, and Palestro took off his outer wrappings 
and sat down, stretching out his long bony hands to the 
blaze. The lodge-keeper resumed the seat she had 
vacated at his knock, and took up again a big wooden 
tray filled with apples, which she was paring. 

For a few minutes the ex-scrivener was silent, enjoy- 
ing the delicious rest and heat after his long journey. 
But presently he spoke upon the subject nearest his 
heart. 

“ This is a magnificent place, Signora,” he observed, 
as his small, peering eyes glanced into the perfectly 
kept grounds of the Court. “ A Prince might live here.” 

“ Indeed he might, and be proud of the place !” 
returned the lodge-keeper proudly, feeling herself identi- 
fied with the Tressilian glories. “ There an’ta finer place 
in Gloucestershire, if 1 do say it ; nor an older or better 


60 


GUY TRESSILIAN’S FATE. 


family than Sir Arthur Tressilian’s. The first Tres- 
silian was a Norman, and came over with William the 
Conqueror ?” 

She made this assertion with a triumphant air, and 
Palestro assumed a look of reverence, although he was 
ignorant of the very name of William the Conqueror, 
and had not the slightest idea that nearly every family 
in England, with the least pretensions to being of con- 
sequence, claimed that its remote ancestor had come 
over in the train of the conquering William. 

“ Is it possible ?” he ejaculated, with increasing awe. 
“ This Sir Tresolino must be a great Milord. Is he 
rich ?” 

“ Rich ?” said the lodge-keeper. “ His rent-roll might 
befit a duke ! He is one of the richest men in the 
county.” 

Palestro’s eyes gleamed, and he rubbed his hands 
softly together. 

“ So rich !” he muttered. “A carriage passed me on 
this side of the village with a lady and two gentlemen 
in, and it turned into these grounds. Perhaps that was 
Milord Sir Tresolino’s carriage ?” 

“ Yes, it was,” returned the woman, pleased at the 
title applied to her well-loved master. “ Sir Arthur has 
been to Gloucester this morning, and came home a few 
minutes before you came up.” 

“ He looks young and very handsome,” said the artful 
Italian, in an indifferent tone. “I suppose the young 
man was his brother, and the young lady was his wife, 
perhaps, or his sister ?” 

The lodge-keeper laughed. 

“You are wrong,” she said. “Sir Arthur was mar- 
ried very young, and the young gentleman is his son 
and heir, Mr. Guy Tressilian. The young lady is Sir 


DISCOVERED. 


61 


Arthur’s ward, and the servants up at the Court say 
that Mr. Guy and Miss Blanche are to be married.” 

“ And so the handsome, fair young gentleman is Mi- 
lord’s son and heir,” mused the Italian. “ The only son, 
Signora ?” 

“Yes, the only son.” 

“ Milord has lost a son lately ?” suggested the Italian, 
pursuing his theory that Guy and Lowder were brothers. 

The lodge-keeper looked surprised. She was a gos- 
sipping little woman, fond of a social chat, and even 
this seeming tramp was better company than none. 
She hastened to reply to his suggestion : 

“ Mr. Guy is the only son, and always has been. Sir 
Arthur had no other children.” 

Palestro’s countenance fell. If his captive in Italy, 
in the hands of the Red Carvelli, were not the brother 
of his companion, who and what was he ? 

“Are you sure, Signora?” asked the ex-scrivener 
huskily. “ Was there not a son who died abroad lately ?” 

“No; Mr. Guy is all the son Sir Arthur ever had. 
But Mr. Guy has been abroad for years, at the univer- 
sity and travelling. He was shipwrecked lately off 
Sicily, and came near drowning. Perhaps you’ve heard 
of his accident ?” 

“ Yes,” said Palestro, in a hoarse, low voice. “ I have 
heard of it. Did — did the young Milord have a travel- 
ling companion ?” 

“ Of course,” responded the unsuspicious dame, who 
had heard Lowder’s version of his shipwreck and its 
attendant circumstances from the servants of the Court. 
“ It would not become the son and heir of Sir Arthur 
Tressilian to travel over that big, heathenish Continent 
alone, with no one to look after him when sick, nor to 
talk to when well. Mr. Guy disliked to have a valet, and 
he hired a travelling companion, a poor young gentleman, 


62 


GUY TRESSILIAN’S FATE. 


who went with him everywhere, and was treated by him 
like a brother. Cressy, that’s Miss Blanche’s maid up at 
the Court, says that the young gentleman was hurt in 
the shipwreck I told you of, and is now in Sicily a down- 
right idiot.” 

Palestro’s sallow face became livid. Was Lowder’s 
story true, after all ? Was there no mystery ? Had he 
deceived himself, and come to England upon a fool’s 
errand ? He thought it looked so. 

“ Could you tell me the name of the travelling com- 
panion, Signora?” he asked, in a half whisper. 

“ Yes ; it’s not a fine name : Lowder — Jasper Lowder.” 

A strange, sick sensation overcome the ex-scrivener. 
He leanded his head upon his hands. The story of the 
garrulous, simple lodge-keeper exactly confirmed that 
told by Lowder. 

“ But if it is all true,” he thought, “ Why did he look 
so guilty ? Why did he stare at the idiot as if he were 
frightened at him ? Why did he offer me so princely 
an annuity to keep him informed of the health of only 
a poor travelling companion ? There is a mystery here, 
but what is it ? 1 must know. I can never go back to 

Giuditta with this story. She would mock at me for 
my failure.” 

The fear of Giuditta, added to his own curiosity and 
greed, determined him to pursue his inquiries. 

After some further reflection, he rose up, declaring 
himself refreshed, and inquired, as he put on his outer 
wrappings : 

“ Is there a servant wanted at the Court, Signora — a 
valet, or steward, or even a waiter ?” 

“ I don’t know I’m sure,” said the lodge-keeper, 
upon whom the ex-scrivener had produced a favorable 
impression. “ You could go up to the Court and 
inquire.” 


DISCOVERED. 


63 


“ I will do so,” answered Palestro. “ It will do no 
harm to try.” 

The woman gave him a few directions, and opened a 
door giving egress into the Tressilian grounds. Rais- 
ing his hat to her, the Italian bade her good-morning, 
and struck out by a by-path running nearly parallel 
with the great avenue, from a view of which it was 
screened by shrubbery, for the Court. 

He had arrived within a short distance of the grand 
old mansion, and was making his way around to a rear 
entrance, when he espied old Luke, the privileged old 
gardener, whose opinion, as will be remembered, was 
so unfavorable to Jasper Lowder, when the two met 
on the morning after Lowder’s arrival at Tressilian 
Court. 

Palestro went up to the octogenarian, who was busily 
engaged in potting plants with a pair of trembling 
hands, and who looked up at the Italian’s approach, his 
wrinkled face wearing an expression of surprise. 

Palestro raised his hat with his unfailing politeness, 
and inquired : 

“ Do you want an assistant gardener, sir ?” 

Old Luke’s heart warmed to the sinister intruder at 
once. He had been for the larger share of his life head 
gardener at the Court, and his ideas were of a now for- 
gotten school. He often sighed for the old times when 
trees were trimmed into fantastic shapes, the semblan- 
ces of human beings or animals, and flower-gae(Jens 
were cut into quaint beds, and sowed with old-time 
flowers, but the greatest grief of his life had come upon 
him when Sir Arthur had engaged a skilled modern 
gardener and given him the actual supervision of gar- 
dens and lawns, leaving to old Luke only the empty 
glories of a so-called superior rank. From the 
moment of the new gardener’s coming, now some fif- 


64 


GUY TRESSILIAN’S FATE. 


teen years, there had existed between the two the most 
intense rivalry. Each considered himself gardener-in- 
chief, and Sir Arthur was often called upon to settle 
the bickerings between the pair, and to decide which 
should and which should not be obeyed, when they had 
issued contradictory orders. Old Luke was, therefore, 
sensitive in regard to his rank, and Palestro’s appeal to 
him, instead of to his rival, flattered him. 

“ I don't know,” he observed, in a cracked voice, 
smiling benignantly upon the stranger. “ You’re a 
foreigner, eh ? I don’t think much of foreign gardens. 
Give me the good old English style ; but I’m afraid we 
shall never have that back again. The world an’t what 
it used to be. What can you do ?” 

He shook his head despondently, and his trowel fell 
from his nerveless hands. 

Palestro hastened to restore the implement to its 
proprietor and made answer : 

“ I can do anything you tell me, sir. I should obey 
your orders implicitly, sir, of course.” 

“ I — I wish we had an opening for you,” said old Luke, 
in his trembling tones. “ But the truth is, we haven’t. 
It’s winter now, you see, and there’s only the conserva- 
tories and green-houses to see to. No, I’m afraid there’s 
no room for you.” 

“ Perhaps I could get a place in the house ?” said 
Palestro leaning carelessly against a marble urn, over 
whose sides a brown vine was trailing. “ I have been 
valet, courier, everything. Perhaps the young Milord 
might want a valet.” 

“ Perhaps,” assented old Luke, in a growling voice. 
“ I couldn’t tell you as to that, my man. Mr. Guy hasn’t 
spoken to me but once since he came home, and he used 
to think so much of old Luke, too ! I always said that 
a furrin education and travel would spoil him. They’d 



PLACED HIMSELF AT OLLA’S SIDE IN THE ATTITUDE OF A PROTECTOR. — See Chapter X. 











































































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V 









































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* • 






























































. 









• . • 























SCYLLA AND CHARYBDIS. 


65 


spoil an angel. He an’t the same lad since he came 
back.” 

A quick gleam shot from the ex-scrivener’s eyes. 

It was evident he took those last words literally. 

“ Not the same ?” he exclaimed. 

‘‘No. He’s as different as if he were another man ! 
He’s as strange and silent as if he had a secret on his 
mind. I used to fairly love the ground he walked on ! 
and now, when he comes in the garden, it seems as 
though a serpent had crossed my path. He has no kind 
words for me, no smiles, no looks even. Oh, he’s 
changed ! Why, yesterday his old dog, that he used to 
love, and that used to love him, snapped at his legs, and 
he lifted his foot and kicked the poor animal and cursed 
him ! I saw it all, and Mr. Guy scowled at me when he 
had finished. He’ll make a fine Baronet !” 

“ He’d been away a good many years ?” 

“ Five. But five years ought not to have made such 
a change in him. It reminds me of the stories I used 
to tell him of fairy changelings. It almost seems as 
though some wicked fairies — if one could only believe 
in such stuff — had changed our Master Guy for this 
fellow.” 

A sudden glow lit up Palestro’s face. The old 
gardener’s chance and meaningless words had aroused 
within the wily Italian a suspicion of the actual truth. 

“ At any rate,” he thought exultantly, “ I’ll accuse 
the young Milord of being in another man’s place. If 
it an’t that, it’s something else. There’s a mystery here 
I’m bound to solve.” 

He sethis teeth together firmly, and his restless black 
eyes emitted a shower of gleams, as he continued his 
reflections, and old Luke went on with his platitudes. 
After a little, however, Palestro broke away from the 


66 


GUY TRESSILIAN’S FATE. 


garrulous old man and walked into the shadows of the 
park. 

Here he remained some time thinking. 

“ I’ll take the bull by the horns,” he resolved, at last. 
“ It is better to be too bold than not bold enough. I’ll 
see him and accuse him of being an impostor. Shall 
I go to the house, or send him a note ?” 

He decided upon the latter. He had paper and pern 
cil in his pocket, and proceeded to write a brief note to 
Lowder in Italian which might be translated as follows: 

“ Milord Sir Tresolino : I am here, at Tressilian 
Court. I am in the edge of the park. Will you come 
out to me, or shall I come in to you ? 

“Jacopo Palestro.” 

He sealed this threatening epistle with a wafer, ad- 
dressed it plainly to “ Mr. Guy Tressilian,” and boldly 
made his way to the mansion and to a side door, 
sounded a knocker thrice heavily, and gave his missive 
into the hands of a servant with injunctions to deliver 
it immediately into the hands of “ the Baronet’s son.” 

He then returned to the edge of the park, and awaited 
impatiently the result of his peremptory summons to 
Jasper Lowder. 

“ He’d better come,” he muttered, striding to and 
fro. “If he don’t, I’ll go up to the house and see the 
Baronet himself. We’ll see what’ll happen then !” 



CHAPTER VI. 

SCYLLA AND CHARYBDIS. 

The anxiety of Olla Rymple in regard to poor Guy 
Tressilian— as he lay helplessly on the pile of blankets 
in the rock cell of the brigands’ cavern, after the fateful 
visit of the experimenting outlaw Doctor — had time to 
deepen into a positive terror before the flush of- return- 
ing consciousness struggled into those pale, wan cheeks, 
and before the broad breast began to rise and swell 
with the heart’s renewed pulsations. 

But the heavy eyelids trembled and lifted at last. 
The brilliant blue eyes sent restless glances of actual 
inquiry around the dismal cell, into the countenances 
of Mrs. Popley and her son, and settled at last upon 
Olla’s bright young face. 

The girl, kneeling beside her charge, holding his thin 
hand in her’s, met his gaze, watching him in a breath- 
less suspense. 

Her soul thrilled as she saw that there was “specula- 
tion ” in his eyes ; that a keen spark of intelligence 
was kindled within him. The torpid intellect was 
rousing from its long sleep. The benumbed soul was 
awakening to light and life ! 

For a few moments an absolute silence reigned in the 

[ 67 ] 


68 


GUT TRESSILIAN’S FATE. 


dim cell. The rays of the lantern fell full upon Tres- 
silian's ghastly face, framed in its locks of tawny hair, 
and upon the lithe, slight figure kneeling beside him, 
with dark, bright face and dusky eyes glowing like 
lamps. Olla held her breath in a terrible expectancy. 

Presently Guy stirred on his pallet, raised his head 
upon his hand, leaning upon his elbow, and said, in 
the clear eager voice that had formerly distinguished 
him : 

“ What place is this ? I — I don’t remember — ” 

Olla’s face was radiant. The tears sprang to her joy- 
lit eyes ; her happy mouth quivered. 

“ Oh, nurse Popley !” she ejaculated. “ He is himself 
again ! God has restored to him his intellect !” 

Sobbing and laughing in her joyful excitement, for- 
getful of her imprisonment and the dangers threatening 
her, Olla gave herself up to the supreme ecstasy of the 
moment. 

At length Tressilian struggled to his feet, and looked 
around him in yet more earnest scrutiny. Then Olla 
also arose and approached him, laying her hand upon 
his arm. 

“ You wonder where you are, Mr. Lowder ?” she said 
gently. 

“ Lowder ?” repeated Guy, knitting his fair brows. 

The girl’s heart sank. 

“ Do you not remember that your name is Jasper 
Lowder ?” she asked softly. 

“ Lowder ?” again repeated Tressilian, brushing his 
forehead with one hand, as if to clear away a mist. 
“The name is familiar. I know it perfectly — but 
somehow, I can’t quite remember. I feel stunned. My 
brain is not clear !” 

“ But try to remember,” urged Olla, in anxious plead- 
ing. “It is your own name, Jasper.” 


SCYLLA AND CHARYBDIS. 


69 


Tressilian shook his handsome head with a puzzled 
smile. 

“ I — I don’t think it’s my name,” he answered, “but 
I can’t exactly remember. It will all come back to me 
soon, I dare say. Your face is very familiar. May I 
ask your name ?” 

“ My name is Olla Rymple.” 

“A sweet name — Olla,” mused Tressilian. “It 
seems to come naturally to my lips. Olla ! Where are 
we ?” 

“ We are in the mountain den of the famous, or in- 
famous brigand, the Red Carvelli.” 

“ In a brigand’s cave ?” 

“Yes. You were wrecked on the Sicilian coast, Mr. 
Lowder, in a terrible storm — ” 

“ A storm ! I remember a storm.” 

“ You were cast ashore, and your head was hurled vio- 
lently against a rock. Your brain was injured and you 
have not been yourself since. I am taking you to Eng- 
land ; or rather I started for England with you. This 
morning we left Naples in a carriage for Termoli. We 
were captured by brigands, and they have brought us to 
their retreat in the Monte del Matese. I suppose they 
intend to hold us for ransom.” 

Tressilian expressed his bewilderment and surprise, 
and made several inquiries, which Olla answered at 
length. A few minutes’ conversation sufficed to give 
the Baronet’s son a clear comprehension of his present 
condition and surroundings. 

But no key could be found to unlock for him his 
sealed past. His memory still slept and refused to 
awaken. He accepted, with considerable uneasiness 
and expressed doubts, the name that had been put upon 
him, but again protested that his brain was not clear, 
and that he felt stunned. 


70 


GUY TRESSILIAN’S FATE. 


It was remarkable that the cloud that had pressed 
upon his brain should have lifted as it had ; that his in- 
tellect should have resumed all its functions, save this 
one of remembering. He could think, reason, plan, but 
he could not recall his past. 

“ But you will remember,” declared Olla, with 
bright hopefulness. “You shall have a first-class physi- 
cian, if we ever get free again. As you are now so 
nearly restored, I am confident that under a good sur- 
geon’s care, you will entirely recover.” 

“ I hope so,” said Tressilian, with a troubled look in 
his blue aud shining eyes. “ It almost seems as if I 
could remember — and yet I cannot. I hardly think 
you have given me my real name,” and he sighed 
heavily. 

“We won’t trouble ourselves about names,” said Olla 
cheerfully. “ We shall remember everything in good 
time. Just now, Jasper, we are in an unpleasant .situa- 
tion, and we must work our way out of it. We must 
keep up our strength, and to do that we must eat. 
There has been no way invented yet, I believe, for the 
happiest or most sorrowful people, to sustain life with- 
out food.” 

Popley placed a couple of chairs at the rude table. 
Olla took her place, and Tressilian seated himself oppo- 
site her. The meal was a homely one, of cold meats, 
bread, fruits and wine ; but the young pair assailed it 
with appetite, Popley and his mother eating their share 
in a distant corner. 

The meal was scarcely concluded, when Olla heard 
footsteps in the rocky chamber without. 

“ The brigand chief is coming !” she exclaimed. 
“Jasper, he must not see the change in you. Please go 
into the adjoining room. Popley go with him. Mrs. 
Popley will remain with me.” 


8CYLLA AND CFIARYBDIS. 


71 


Tressilian, without questioning, went into the inner 
chamber, the one designed for his use and that of Pop 
ley. His attendant followed him, nearly closing the 
door behind him. 

The next moment the great key grated in the lock of 
Olla’s cell, the massive door swung wide on its hinges, 
and the tall form of the brigand chief stalked into the 
dim chamber. 

He paused near the threshold, sweeping a keen glance 
around the cell. He smiled, as he noticed how little 
remained of the liberal tray of food he had sent in to 
his prisoners, and said, as he closed the door and care- 
lessly leaned his formidable figure against it : 

“ I am glad to see that your imprisonment has not 
affected you appetite, Signorina. Despite your cour- 
age of the morning, I expected to find you unable to 
eat, spiritless, crying — ” 

Olla’s lips curled. A mocking light shone in her 
glowing eyes. She comprehended that her best method 
of dealing with her pitiless captor was to openly defy 
him. A trembling submission would only invite his 
tyranny. 

“ You flatter me,” she remarked serenely. “ If you 
came to witness an affecting scene, Signore, of tears 
and bewailings, I regret to disappoint you. But tears 
and pleadings and going without my dinner, when those 
things cannot benefit me, are not my forte. Won’t you 
be seated ? I suppose it isn’t necessary for me to apolo- 
gize for the poverty of my surroundings ?” 

The coarse, heavy face of the outlaw became trans- 
fused with a dull red glow. His black eyes blazed with 
admiration. 

“ Per Bacco !” he ejaculated. “ You are but a mite, 
Signorina. I could pick you up under one arm, and 


72 


GUY TRESSILIAN’S FATE. 


run off with you ; and yet 5 7 ou have the spirit of a 
giant. You dare to beard me — ” 

“ And why shouldn’t I ?” interrupted the sweet mock- 
ing voice. “ What are you ? A robber — a thief — a 
stealer of pence and half-pence ! Did you expect I 
would fall down in a swoon at the sound of your 
voice, or at sight of your face ? You must have thought 
me as weak-minded as a child.” 

Carvelli scowled blackly, and bit his lips. 

“ You are frank, Signorina,” he said sullenly. “ I can 
see that you are not familiar with my reputation. 
Why, it isn’t a month since I let loose an Inglese cap- 
tive, minus his ears !” 

Olia shuddered involuntarily, but the mocking light 
in her eyes did not quaver, nor the mocking smile on 
her lips fade. 

“ A manly deed !” she observed, with a little sneer. 
“ I should think you would boast of it. It is, perhaps, 
what I should expect of the persecutor of women. 
Possibly your delicate little allusion really means that 
you have a fancy for my ears ? You had better control 
your perverted tastes, Signore Brigand. I desire to keep 
them as a personal ornament a while longer.” 

“ Well, you are a cool one !” commented Carvelli, 
admiringly. “You and I ought to be friends, Signor- 
ina. I admire courage above all things. Will you shake 
hands after the Inglese fashion ?” 

He held out his brawny, bony hand, red and coarse 
as the hand of a savage. Olla surveyed it an instant, 
put her own hands behind her, and shook her head, 
saying gravely : 

“ You must excuse me. I really can’t gratify you. 
We will dispense with English fashions here. Let us 
come to business. Have you fixed the amount of my 
ransom ?” 


SCYLLA AND CHARYBDIS. 


73 


“ I shall not admit you to ransom !” declared the 
brigand. 

Olla was inwardly dismayed. 

“ You purpose, then, setting me free at once ?'” she 
inquired, with an affectation of bravado. 

“ Not at all, Signorina. You mistake my character 
and intentions. Permit me to talk plainly to yon. 
When I captured you, I had the intention of letting you 
go again, on the payment of a heavy ransom. But 
your beauty and spirit have captivated your captor. I 
am your prisoner even more than you are mine. I love 
you, Signorina. I am going to marry you !” 

Olla arched her pretty brows. 

“ Don’t you think you are making a little too sure ?” 
she suggested. “ In the country I came from it is cus- 
tomary to let a lady have a voice also in the matter.” 

The outlaw frowned. 

“ The Red Carvelli never asks for that he has power 
to take,” he said grimly^ “ Yet, if I could, I would woo 
you as your Inglese woo, with sweet words and plead- 
ings. But I have no temper for that sort of business. 
You know you are beautiful as well as I know it, and it 
is only a waste of breath to dilate upon the glory of your 
features. You suit me. Your disposition and mine 
are alike fierce — ” 

Olla made a little grimace. 

“ You are a fine Inglesina : I am an Italian outlaw,” 
pursued Carvelli ; “ but we should be happy together. 
You should be an outlaw queen. The band should 
respect your slightest word. You should have silks 
and jewels, and whatever trumpery women like. You 
should make trips to the big cities now and then, and 1 
would always treat you kindly.” 

“ Humph !” said Olla. “ A fine prospect— for you ! 
I am, however, out of consideration to myself, compelled 


74 


GUY TRESSILIAN^S FATE. 


to decline the position you offer me as 4 outlaw 
queen.’ ” 

Carvelli paid no heed to this polite renunciation of 
himself, but exclaimed grimly : 

“ My mind is made up, Signorina. You are complete- 
ly in my power. But 1 will consider your scruples, 
your delicacy. I will make you my honorable wife. I 
know of a worthy priest in a village not many miles 
distant. I am now going to send men to capture him. 
This evening we shall have a wedding festival, and you 
shall be the bride. Make ready for the ceremony. I 
wish you to look your best. The men are already pre- 
paring the wedding feast.” 

“ But suppose I hold out against this marriage ?” 
demanded Olla, appalled at the prospect before her. 

“ You cannot,” said the brigand, yet more grimly. 
“ You shall become my wife whether you will or no. 
Force is stronger than persuasion. You will marry me,” 
he added hissingly, “ or you will see your three friends 
die before your face this very night. Choose ! I will 
come for your decision when the priest arrives.” 

He went out abruptly, and secured the door. 


CHAPTER VII. 

A CRISIS IN OLLA’S MISFORTUNES. 

For some hours, Olla and her friends were left to 
themselves in their dimly lighted cells in the brigand’s 
mountain retreat. The Popleys employed the time in 
lamentations over the fate which threatened their 
beautiful young mistress. Guy Tressilian sat apart, 
evidently comprehending Olla’s peril, his handsome 


A CRISIS IN OLLA’S MISFORTUNES. 


75 


face grave and sad to sternness. And Olla herself felt 
all her courage desert her, as she considered the pros- 
pect before her. 

“ I am no heroine after all, I am afraid,” she said 
sorrowfully, as she restlessly paced the rocky floor. 
“ Of course I don’t mean that I am in the mood to lie 
down and be trampled upon. Meekness is not my forte. 
Nor resignation either. If I have to give into superior 
force, I shall do so under protest, with drums beating 
and banners flying, so to speak.” 

“Then you’ve made up your mind to marry that 
terrible brigand, Miss Olla ?” sighed Mrs. Popley. 

“ No, I haven’t,” declared Olla, with reviving decision. 
“ I haven’t made up my mind to anything yet. At the 
moment I spoke I realized my own helplessness and 
this Carvelli’s power, and I felt all my courage ooze out 
at the tips of my fingers. I forgot that, though he has 
all the power on his side, I have the right on mine. 
Things have come to a desperate pass with me, dear 
old nurse, but I think,” she added gently, and with a 
reverent glance upward, “ I can trust in Providence 
still.” 

“ But I’m afraid that won’t help us,” moaned poor 
Mrs. Popley, utterly despairing. “ If I could only 
suffer for you, my dear lamb ! If this red brigand 
would only take me in your stead.” 

A smile flickered for an instant over the girl’s red 
lips, but it faded and was succeeded by a sorrowful 
quivering. 

“ Don’t grieve for me, nurse Popley,” she said ten- 
derly. “ I am not Carvelli’s wife yet. And though he 
may frighten some priest into uttering a mockery of 
marriage over us, I never shall be his wife. I’ll die 
first !” 

Mrs. Popley looked at her resolute young mistress 


76 


guy tressilian’s fate. 


with an admiring awe. The girl’s eyes flashed, the 
scarlet fluttered in her cheeks, and her face glowed with 
an expression of determination and defiance. 

Guy Tressilian looked at Olla also with a keen 
admiration, and he felt his heart stir strangely within 
him. He had been pondering deeply upon his own con- 
dition, trying to tear aside the vail that shrouded from 
him his past, but he lost all thought of himself now in 
his contemplation of Olla. 

“She looks like a young goddess,” he said to himself. 
“ She is a very spirit of radiance. I would die for her !” 

His blue eyes shone like stars, revealing by their fires 
the ardor of his thoughts. 

About nightfall, although there was nothing to mark 
the difference between day and night in that dreary 
dungeon, the door of Olla’s cell was unlocked, and the 
brigand “ Doctor ” again made his appearance, bear- 
ing a tray of food. 

He closed the door, set down his tray, and fixed his 
gaze upon Tressilian, who regarded him with a bright 
and inquiring glance. 

“ He’s alive yet, I see,” said the Doctor, with a sigh of 
relief. “ 1 half expected to find him dead. How is he v ’ 

“ Better — much better,” said Olla. “ He is almost well. 
He talks as rationally as I do.” 

“ I feel stunned yet !” declared Tressilian. “ It 
seems as if I had had a blow on my head from a club. 
Everything seems to me hazy and unreal. And the 
worst of it is, I can’t remember and he put his hand 
to his head, smoothing his brows. 

“ If you are all right, excepting a lack of memory, 
you’ll do !” exclaimed the doctor, a gratified smile curv- 
ing his lips. “I had a real genius for surgery. If I 
had kept on, and led a humdrum life of respectability, I 
would have been the first surgeon in Italy.” 


A CRISIS IN OLLA’s MISFORTUNES. 


77 


“ Do you consider that this outlaw existence recom- 
penses you for the loss of social position and honors ?” 
inquired Olla gravely. “ Are you willing to bury your 
talents in a robbers’ cave, to be hunted like a' wild 
beast, and die at last an ignominious death, when your 
career might be so different ?” 

The Doctor colored, and muttered something about 
the joys of “ a free, wild life.” Then he turned hastily 
again to Tressilian, as if anxious to dismiss the idea 
Olla had called up. 

“ If you were to trust yourself again to me,” he said, 
“ I think I could finish that little operation in good 
style. I’d like to show you, Signorina, that I have 
talents of account. That Dr. Spezzo has not half the 
daring, courage and skill I should have developed. He 
did not like to undertake the case of the young Inglese. 
See what I have done. Will you allow me to try 
again ?” 

Tressilian shook his head. Evidently he considered 
what the Doctor had already accomplished as a lucky 
accident, rather than the result of a skillful operation. 
Perhaps he fancied the outlaw too eager and reckless to 
be intrusted with so delicate a task. At any rate, he 
declined the proffered assistance. 

“ I will see a Paris doctor,” he said thoughtfully. 

“ If you ever see Paris !” returned the Doctor smiling. 
“ I believe the Captain don’t intend to lose sight of you. 
He thinks he’s got a prize this time, as he has !” and he 
bowed gallantly at the girl captive. 

“ I would like to ask you a few questions,” said Olla, 
looking at the outlaw sharply. “ It was evident that 
your captain expected us at the crossing of the ravine 
this morning. He was lying in wait for our very party. 
How was that ? Had he information of our coming ?” 


78 


GUY TRESSILIAN’s FATE. 


The Doctor hesitated. Olla accepted his silence as an 
affirmative answer. 

“ I suppose he has spies in Naples,” she said care- 
lessly. “ No doubt that Lipari, our driver, was in Car- 
velli’s pay. It struck me that Carvelli seemed to expect 
to see just us, and no other travellers. I should like to 
ask you another question. Is the Signora Palestro, the 
landlady of the Vesuvius Inn, an acquaintance of your 
captain’s ?” 

The Doctor laughed. 

“ She had ought to be,” he answered. u She is his 
sister. There, I have talked too much. But every one in 
Naples knows that the pretty landlady of the Vesuvius 
Inn is the sister of the Red Carvelli.” 

This reply let a flood of light into the mind of Olla. 
She had been puzzling herself with various surmises in 
regard to her capture, but it was now plain to her that 
she had been betrayed into the brigand’s hands by one 
of her own sex — namely, the buxom, red-cheeked mis- 
tress of the Vesuvius Inn. 

“ What is all that noise in the .outer cavern ?” she 
asked, after a pause. 

“The men are getting ready for the evening’s festiv- 
ities, Miladi,” replied the Doctor. “ The messengers 
have not yet come with the priest, but they must soon 
be here. The Captain will come for you in good time.” 

With this he withdrew. 

Again the hours wore on. Olla wound her watch, 
and paced her floor with light and restless tread. 
Tressilian, utterly wearied and worn, retired to his 
couch in the adjoining cell. Popley went with him, and 
both were presently asleep. Mrs. Popley, in obedience 
to Olla’s desire, lay down upon the pile of blankets and 
sobbed herself into uneasy slumbers. But Olla, sleep- 
less and anxious, moved softly to and fro, her face pale 


A CRISIS IN OLLA’s MISFORTUNES. 


79 


and sorrowing, her dusky eyes full of a rebellious ques- 
tioning. 

The night passed, and no summons came to the outer 
cavern. The sounds of life and festivity died out of 
the entire underground abode. Evidently some hitch 
had occurred in Carvelli’s plans, and the prospective 
wedding was deferred. 

Toward morning, Olla took up her own pile of 
blankets and lodged it against the door in a manner to 
obstruct the entrance of any person. Then, having 
said her prayers, she lay down and went to sleep. 

It was about nine o’clock when she awakened, but no 
light from the day without could of course penetrate 
into that subterranean cell. Mrs. Popley was astir, and 
movements were heard in the adjoining chamber. 

Olla arose, and made her toilet as best she could with 
the scanty accommodations at her command. The 
light was burning low in the lantern, and the air was 
chilly and damp. The girl shivered. 

“ This won’t be good for your rheumatism, Mrs. Pop- 
lev,” she said, trying to speak gayly. “ I have read 
about caves in stories, and I always thought them a 
romantic sort of abode. But experience dispels the 
romance. What is a cave but a damp, chilly hole in 
the rock or earth ? I feel as if I had been buried in 
this vault for ages. Oh, if I could only get out into the 
sunshine and fresh air again !” 

She brushed out her crisp jetty locks, smoothing them 
as well as she was able away from her small dark face, 
and then resumed her weary walking to and fro. 

A little later the Doctor brought in breakfast and a 
fresh lantern. 

Olla inquired in a mocking voice what had interrupted 
the course of the preceding evening’s festivities. 

“ The men could not find the priest,” was the response. 


so 


GUY TRESSILIAN’s FATE. 


“ He had gone to visit a sick parishoner. The men wilt 
go for him again to-night. We are obliged to lie low 
by day, for a friend has sent us word from Naples that 
the troops are actually going to make a search for us. 
Let them search. They can never find us.” 

The Doctor did not linger as on his previous visits, 
but retired, securing the door. He came but once again 
during the day, and then his visit was also brief. 

The day passed. The evening was wearing on, when 
a loud uproar in the great outer cavern testified that an 
event of interest was occurring there. 

A little later, the Red Carvelli, made his appearance 
in the cell of his captives. 

He had dressed himself with scrupulous care. His 
garments were of Genoa velvet. In his ruffled shirt 
front a big diamond blazed, and another fine brilliant 
secured his long straight plume to his sugar-loaf hat. 

“ The priest has come, Signorina,” he said, bowing. 
“ He understands what is required of him. The men 
are making ready our bridal supper. All that is want- 
ing is the bride.” 

“ A serious want !” observed Olla. 

“ I am aware,” said Carvelli, “ that her bridal is the 
most important feature in a woman’s life. If ever she 
wants to make a display, she does then. We cannot 
offer you a very fashionable audience, Signorina, to 
comment upon your beauty or splendors, but the men 
are inclined to be appreciative. And so, to bear your 
part to the general satisfaction, it would be well for you 
to wear bridal finery. Your woman there can robe you, 
and I will furnish the materials.” 

He clapped his hands, and two of his followers 
entered, bearing between them a chest. 

This receptacle on being opened was found to be 
filled with a great supply of finery. The men tossed it 


A CRISIS IN OLLA’s MISFORTUNES. 


81 


out upon the floor as if it had been rubbish, one' of 
them holding a lantern so that its rays fell full upon 
gleaming silks, delicate tulles and laces, and other fab- 
rics for women’s dress. 

“You can get a vail out of that,” said Carvelli. “ And 
that is all that’s really needed besides your ordinary 
apparel. Brides always wear vails.” 

“ Perhaps I shall when I become a bride,” said Olla. 
“ As I have no expectation of becoming one at present, 
I shall not put one on. You had better carry your 
trumpery out, Signore Robber.” 

Carvelli’s face. flushed with anger. 

“ If you don’t want a vail, you needn't have it,” he 
exclaimed, kicking the unlucky finery into a corner. 
“ Everything is ready, and the priest is waiting. You 
must come.” 

He held out his hand to her. 

Olla quietly buttoned her little seal sacque, perched 
her hat upon her head, and motioned Tressilian and 
Popley to precede her. Then she took Mrs. Popley’s 
arm, and the party made its way into the outer cav- 
ern. 

It was indeed a festal scene that greeted them. The 
rude, rough walls of the cavern were hung with green 
boughs, from whose shadows a hundred lanterns glowed 
like fiery eyes. A great fire was roaring and blazing 
at the side of the chamber. 

In the midst of the long, irregular room was a rude 
freshly made table, covered with clean linen. Upon 
this was spread a plentiful feast of meats, including 
roasted birds of various sorts, fancy breads recently 
stolen from some village bake-shop, dishes of fruits— 
olives, grapes and confitures — and tankards and bottles 
of red and white wines of Italy’s most famous brands. 

Several tall lamps were interspersed among the 


82 


GUY TRESSILIAN’S FATE. 


heaped-up dishes, displaying the table to the best ad- 
vantage. 

Along the walls, like so many shadows, were ranged 
the outlaws, all in their best attire, all silent and expect- 
ant. 

At one end of the rocky chamber was a raised dais, 
covered with carpeting. Here two chairs were placed 
side by side, like twin thrones. 

The Red Carvelli mounted this dais, half leading, half 
dragging Olla after him. 

Clutching her arm tightly in his he compelled her to 
face the outlaw assemblage. 

But it was no gentle or resigned look Olla bestovred 
upon the outlaw band. Her dusky eyes were full of 
mutiny, and flashed like suns ; her face glowed with a 
mocking defiance, and her sweet, red mouth was curved 
in a scornful, distainful expression. Her small noble 
head, enwreathed with jetty tresses, was poised haughtily 
upon her slender neck, and her whole mien expressed 
a bitter scorn and defiance better than words could 
have done. 

One of the outlaws set up a cheering, in which his 
companions joined heartily. 

When silence had been restored, Carvelli swept a 
swift glance around him. 

Mrs. Popley had fallen on her knees at the foot of the 
dais, weeping and moaning. Jim Popley, muttering 
British oaths between his clenched teeth, looked ready 
to do battle with the whole robber band, at a word 
from his young mistress. 

Guy Tressilian stood apart, pale as death, his blue 
eyes glowing, his form drawn up to its utmost height. 
His hands were clenched, his teeth set firmly. It w^as 
plain that he understood what was going on around 


A CRISIS IN OLLA’s MISFORTUNES. 


83 


him. It was plain also, that he felt his own helpless- 
ness with an utter despair. 

The Red Carvelli did not notice that the fair, hand- 
some face of the young Englishman was instinct with 
intelligence. He did not see that any change had come 
to him, whom he deemed an idiot. Simply marking 
Tressilian’s presence, he continued his scrutiny of the 
cavern. 

“Where is the priest ?” he asked at last, his hoarse 
voice ringing through the great vault. 

A dozen voices answered him, and then uprose from 
a gloomy niche in a distant corner the figure of a priest. 

An outlaw seized an arm of the priest and hurried 
him toward the dais, at the foot of which they halted, 
the brigand then abandoning the new prisoner. 

The priest thus left standing was seen to be a tall, 
robust, elderly man, tonsured and robed as befitted his 
calling. He had been seized by the messengers of the 
Red Carvelli on his way home from the death bed of 
one of his parishioners. The brigand chief had already 
informed him what was expected of him, but it was plain 
he did not like his task. 

Olla regarded him earnestly. 

He had by no means a handsome face, but it was 
simple, honest and unworldly. Olla saw at a glance 
that he pitied her, and was friendly to her, while he 
regarded her captors with loathing. 

“ You may proceed with the ceremony, holy padre,” 
said Carvelli, in a sneering voice. “ I haven’t much fancy 
for people of your cloth, but the young Inglesina here, 
like all women, has a weakness for the clergy. Marry 
us in your best style, and, as you were brought here 
blindfold, you shall be taken away again with your 
pockets lined with gold.” 

The priest turned his glances upon Olla. 


84 


GUY TRESSILIAn’s FATE. 


“ Daughter,” he said, in a mild, persuasive voice, “ am 
I to understand that you choose to make the best of your 
miserable circumstances, and that you consent to marry 
this man, Guiseppe Carvelli ?” 

“ No — no !” cried Olla in a passionate voice. “ I am 
only a helpless prisoner, but I will not marry him. 
Not even to save my life would I wed him ! Holy father, 
I am not of your people, nor of your religion, but, in the 
name of the God we both worship, I beseech you to 
befriend me !” 

“Ah, I am as helpless as yourself,” said the priest 
compassionately. “ I am a prisoner also. But I say to 
you, Guiseppe Carvelli,” he added sternly, “that I re- 
fuse to obey your will. I will not offend the God I 
serve by invoking His blessing upon a union between 
innocence like this girl’s and guilt like yours !” 

“ What ! You will not marry us ?” 

“ I will not !” 

A gleam like that of lightning shot from the eyes of 
the Red Carvelli. The veins knotted in his forehead. 

“ You defy me ?” he said hoarsely. 

“ No,” said the priest, “ I do not defy you. But I am 
the servant of God, and I cannot assist at a marriage 
like this. I cannot tie an unwilling woman to any man.” 

The brigand chief scowled blackly. 

“Ah, you have scruples !” he sneered. “Well, so be 
it. But the bride shall consent. You don’t know me 
yet. Why, I have done deeds that would make your 
blood run cold ! Ho, there ! Three of you fellows step 
this way.” 

Three of the biggest and burliest of the outlaws, 
armed to the teeth, came to the foot of the dais. 

“ Seize the three Inglese !” thundered the Red Carvelli. 

In a moment Mrs. Popley, her son and Guy Tressilian 
were in the firm grasp of the brigand s followers. 


A CRISIS IN OLLA S MISFORTUNES. 


85 


“You see ?” ejaculated the Red Carvelli, looking upon 
Olla with a face like a demon’s. “ You must realize how 
completely you and your friends are in my power. 
Now I have set my heart upon a marriage like those of 
all the world. I am going to ask you once more if you 
will be my wife. But first you shall see what depends 
upon your answer.” 

He turned toward the men who held the prisoners. 

“ Draw your daggers !” he commanded. 

The men obeyed, and the steel of their poinards 
glittered in the lamplight. 

“ Let not the idiot be harmed !” cried the Red Carvelli. 
“ He is other game than mine. I am but holding him 
in safety for another. But at my word of command, 
plunge your daggers to the hilt in the breast of the In- 
glese serving-man and serving-woman,” and he waved 
his hand at the Popleys. “ Remember !” 

The two outlaws nodded assent. 

Again the terrible Red Carvelli fixed his gleaming 
eyes upon the appalled girl captive. 

“ You hear ?” he demanded. “ I could make you my 
wife without all these formalities, but I choose to carry 
out what I have begun. Now, understand, Miladi. At 
my word of command, my men yonder will stretch your 
two servants dead at your feet. And I shall speak that 
word if you again refuse to marry me. Their life and 
death are in your hands. Say Yes, and they live. Say 
No, and they die. And in any case you are mine. 
Now, for the last time, I ask you to marry me. What 
do you answer ? Speak !” 


CHAPTER VIII. 


PALESTRO AND LOWDER. 

While Fate was thus playing with the fortunes of the 
Baronet’s son, how fared it with the pretender? 

The events to which we have before called the atten- 
tion of the reader, namely, the arrival of Palestro in 
England, and his visit to Tressilian Court in the trail of 
Jasper Lowder, had transpired some five days later than 
the tragic scene recorded in the preceding chapter. 

After sending his hastily written letter to Lowder by 
the hands of a servant, and retiring into the edge of 
the park, as described, Jacopo Palestro awaited the 
coming of the usurper with feelings of unalloyed exul- 
tation. 

He believed that he had solved the mystery of Low- 
der’s conduct : that he held in his keeping a moment- 
ous secret ; and that a grand vista of wealth was open- 
ing before him. 

While he stood in the shadows of the park, almost 
intoxicated with joy at the good fortune which had 
placed in his shrewd keeping a clew to the truth of 
Lowder’s identity, Lowder himself was in the grand 
drawing-room of the Court, as peaceful and happy as if 
no peril were yawning before him. 

On coming in from his drive to Gloucester, Lowder 
had removed his greatcoat in the hall, and had saun- 
[S6j 


TALESTRO AND LOWDER. 


87 


tered into the drawing-room. Sir Arthur Tressilian 
followed him, while Blanche ran up to her own room to 
rid herself of her outer wrappings. 

Lowder walked to the fire, and leaned carelessly 
against the mantel-piece. Sir Arthur approached a 
window looking toward the park. The Baronet’s hand- 
some face was very grave, as it always was now, but his 
brown eyes beamed with a kindly expression, and 
a cheerful smile was on his lips. 

“ The winter is already slipping away, Guy,” he 
remarked. “ The sixth of February will soon be here. 
Blanche will have to send some of her orders up to 
town, and even go to town herself before the marriage. 
Our little girl must have a brilliant wedding. One of 
my errands to-day was to send to London your mother’s 
diamonds to be reset. Blanche must wear them on her 
bridal day.” 

“ Of course,” assented Lowder indolently. 

“ It was your mother’s wish that her son’s bride 
should wear the Tressilian jewels,” continued Sir 
Arthur, a weary tone in his voice. “ I call them the 
Tressilian diamonds, but in fact they are not. They 
came from your mother’s family. There is a tiara, 
necklace, bracelets, brooch, ear-drops — Ah ! what 
strange fellow is that in the edge of the park ? He has 
the look of a foreigner. He has drawn back now. He 
seems to be gone.” 

“ It was doubtless one of the park laborers,” replied 
Lowder indifferently. “ 1 noticed they were at work 
this morning, carrying away the broken twigs and dead 
leaves.” 

At this juncture Blanche entered, and both men had 
eyes and ears only for her. 

She was looking very lovely in her violet dress, and 
with violet ribbons in her golden hair. Her face was 


88 


GUY TRESSILIAn’s FATE. 


arch and bright and sweet, but Sir Arthur fancied that 
there lurked a shadow in the deep gray eyes, and that 
there was a wistful expression under all the gayety of 
her face. Had she some secret wish ungratified ? he 
asked himself. Was she not as contented and happy 
as she seemed ? 

Sir Arthur came forward and placed a chair for her 
with his old-fashioned courtesy. Lowder did not stir 
from his lounging attitude, but his eyes expressed his 
admiration of his young betrothed. 

“ Well,” Lowder said lazily, “ the business of getting 
ready to be married is already inaugurated. We shall 
have busy times during the next few weeks. My father 
says we shall have to escort you up to London, you 
extravagant little Blanche, for Gloucester will not con- 
tain things fine enough for you.” 

Blanche laughed merrily. 

“ It is the fashion to fit out a bride as if she were 
going to the South Seas, where shops are unknown,” 
she observed, “ and of course I must do as others do. 
I rather like the excitement of shopping, and so on. 
People, as a general thing, expect to be married but once 
and they like to make the most of that single occasion.” 

“ And you are very happy in the prospect of marry- 
ing, are you not, Blanche ?” asked Sir Arthur tenderly. 

The girl started, and then assented with a swift blush. 
The next instant the blush faded, leaving her pale, and 
the wistful, unsatisfied look crept into her grey eyes. 
As if unable to bear the Baronet’s loving scrutiny, she 
averted her face. 

“She loves him,” thought the Baronet, “ with all a 
young girl’s fervor. But there is something lacking. 
She is not quite contented. What is it gives that wist- 
ful look to her face ?” 




PALESTRO and lowder. 


89 

He was pondering* the question when the door opened, 
and a servant entered, bearing a note on a salver. 

“ For Mr. Guy,” he said, approaching Lowder. “ It 
was left by a foreign-looking person.” 

Lowder took up the missive, dismissing the servant. 
He opened the note carelessly, a smile on his lips. 

“A begging letter, no doubt,” he said, meeting Sir 
Arthur’s glance. “ I’ve had several already since the 
papers have chronicled my return.” 

He glanced at the brief and peremptory note written 
by Palestro. At sight of the name appended to it, he 
seemed turned to stone. His face grew ghastly in its 
whiteness ; his eyes started in a wild amazement; his 
mouth was drawn by hard, tense lines ; and his hands 
trembled until the paper they held rattled. It was as 
if, according to the old fable, he had looked upon the 
Gorgon’s head. 

Sir Arthur regarded him in astonishment. 

‘ “ Have you bad news, Guy ?”he asked. 

Lowder started as from a trance. He tried to laugh, 
but could only call to his white lips a faint and sickly 
smile. 

“ N-no ; it’s not bad news,” he muttered, in a harsh, 
constrained voice. “It is only an impudent, begging- 
letter, as I supposed.” 

He crumpled the letter in his hands savagely, and 
tossed it upon the grate of live coals. 

Sir Arthur looked at him with concern. 

“My boy,” he said kindly, “no ordinary begging 
letter could alarm you so. What is the matter ?” 

“ I tell you — nothing !” cried Lowder fiercely. “ I 
have simply an attack of vertigo. I am subject to it 
since my accident. The fresh air will cure me,” he 
added, more mildly. “ I am going out to try it.” 

He took up a small iron poker and thrust his crum- 


90 


GUY TRESSILIAN S FATE. 


pled letter into the very depth of the bed of coals. He 
watched the paper blaze and burn to a mere brown and 
fluttering skeleton, and then he strode from the room. 

Blanche, who had witnessed the scene in a deep 
amazement, also withdrew by another door, returning 
to her room. 

Lowder put on his hat and greatcoat hurriedly, and 
hastened out of the house. Sir Arthur, standing at the 
drawing-room window, saw his supposed son make 
straight for the park, and saw also the figure of Pales- 
tro start forth from the shadows to meet him. 

The Baronet knew then that the note had been a sum- 
mons. He knew, what he had before vaguely sus- 
pected, that there was a mystery in the life of this man 
who called him father, and who had won the love of 
innocent Blanche. 

But what, he asked himself, was this m} T stery ? 

While he was debating the question so painful to him 
Lowder had entered the park, into which Palestro had 
again retreated. He advanced a few paces along the 
wide gravelled walk, and found himself face to face 
with the ex-scrivener of Palermo. 

Palestro held out his hand, with a smirking visage. 

“ I beg your pardon for coming, Milord Sir Tresso- 
lino,” he said glibly. “ But it was necessary that I 
should see you immediately — ” 

“ What ! Has he — the idiot escaped ?” 

“ No, Milord. He is quite safe — ” 

“ Then why are you here ?” 

“ I came to see you on account of the poor Signore, 
Milord—” 

“ He — he has then recovered his senses ?” 

“ No, Milord. He is more an idiot than ever. He 
can never be helped, the good Doctor Spezzo says.” 

Lowder’s face had been livid. His eyes of twice 


PALESTRO AND LOWDER. 


91 


their natural size, burned with unholy fires. Now his 
face changed a little in its color, and he asked in a c'if- 
ferent voice : 

“ How did you find me ?” 

“ I arrived in Gloucester this morning, and in- 
quired for one Sir Tresolino. No one could inform 
me. I went to the post-office. The clerk could not 
tell me. I asked for one John Harroville. The clerk 
could not tell me of him. So I muffled myself and 
waited. You came in, as I expected, my letter being 
overdue. I followed you down the street to your car- 
riage. I trotted after your carriage to this place. And 
here I am.” 

“ And why have you come all the way to England to 
tell me that that idiot is well and safe ?” demanded 
Lowder. 

“ There have been changes since you were in Sicily, 
Signore,” said Palestro, ignoring the question for the 
present. “ The husband of my kinswoman, Signor 
Vicini, is dead. Teresa has gone home to Catania, to 
her own people. And the Inglese — the idiot — has left 
Italy.” 

“ Left Italy ! Great Heaven !” 

“ I have left Italy also,” said Palestro composedly. 
“ I have married a buxom maiden, the keeper of an inn 
near Naples. The Vesuvius Inn, Signore. You may 
have heard of it, and of its pretty proprietor, Giuditta 
Carvelli. She is a sister of the Red Carvelli, the famous 
brigand !” 

“ What is all this to me ? I would know of him!" 

“ I’m coming to him. He made a friend in Sicily, a 
young Tnglesa. A girl so lovely, Signore, that one 
might worship her. She had a tender heart, and last 
week ran away from her guardian at Palermo, or there- 
abouts, and took with her the imbecile Inglese. She 


92 


GUY TRESSILIANS FATE. 


started for England with him. She left Sicily in a 
felucca, with two servants and the imbecile — ” 

Lowder interrupted him by a cry of terror. 

“ They are on their Way here ?” he gasped. 

“ They came to Naples,” said Palestro calmly. “ They 
put up at the Vesuvius Inn. The next morning Giu- 
ditta — she is a wily one, is Giuditta — told the young 
Inglesa that she was pursued by her guardian, and per- 
suaded her to go to Termoli, to take the other line. 
The young lady agreed. She set out with her party for 
Termoli, as she supposed. About midway the distance her 
carriage was attacked by brigands, and the whole party 
was captured. That night they reposed in the moun- 
tain retreat of the Red Carvelli. They are there still.” 

Lowder wiped the perspiration from his brows. 

“ This Red Carvelli is your brother-in-law ?” he said. 

“ Yes. He will do as I say. If I say let the imbecile 
Inglese go, he will obey. If I say kill him, he will 
obey !” 

Lowder’s eyes gleamed with the spirit of murder for 
a single instant. The next he cast the devilish thought 
from him as if it had been a poisonous adder. Bad as he 
was, he could not conspire in cold blood to murder Guy 
Tressilian, who had been his truest friend. 

“ He is safe in this brigand’s retreat ?” he asked. 

“ Safer than in Sicily.” 

“ Who is this English girl who befriends him ?” 

“ She is a Signorina Reemple.” 

“ Reemple ? Rymple, perhaps 

Palestro assented. 

‘ And the imbecile could live years in the brigand’s 
mountain retreat and remain. undiscovered ?” 

“ He could be no safer, no more securely hidden from 
prying eyes, in a tiger’s den.” 

Lowder’s face lit up with a gloating expression. 


PALESTRO AND LOWDER. 


93 


“ It is well,” he said. “ But why did you not write 
this ? Why did you come to England ?” 

Palestro’s eyes gleamed with cunning. 

‘‘ I will be frank with you, Signore,” he answered. 
“ I had formed a theory that you and this imbecile were 
brothers, and that he was the elder and heir. I thought 
you were glad to have him out of your way. I came to 
England to see if my theory were true.” 

“ Well ?” said Lowder sharply. 

“ I found myself mistaken. I have talked with your 
lodge-keeper and your old gardener. I find that the 
story you told was true. I find that Mr. Guy Tresolino 
went abroad five years since ; that he had no brother ; 
that he had a travelling companion named Jasper Low- 
der, and that the travelling companion is now in 
Sicily, an imbecile. The gardener told me all this.” 

“ You knew it before. Now that your fine theory is 
dispelled, you must return at once to Italy and look 
after Lowder. I won’t mind giving you an extra fifty 
pounds — ” 

“ One moment,” interrupted the scheming innkeeper, 
his small eyes gleaming. “The gruff old gardener said 
that * Master Guy ’ was changed since he went away — 
that he was not the same man. I knew, from the 
moment I looked in upon you through the window of 
the Vicini cottage, as you regarded the face of your 
stricken comrade, that there was some awful mystery 
about you two. And I have discovered that mystery,” 
he cried, coming to the point of all his suspicions, for 
as yet they were nothing more. “ That imbecile at 
Naples is the true Guy Tressilian. And you — false 
friend, false servant — are the travelling companion, Jas- 
per Lowder !” 

Lowder sprang back with a galvanic start. 

Guilt showed in his eyes, in his features. He actually 


94 


GUY TRESSILIAN 8 FATE. 


cowered before his accuser, horror expressed in every 
line of his ghastly face. 

“ This — this is preposterous !” he stammered, with 
chattering teeth. 

“ Sir Arthur would think the question worth investi- 
gating.” 

There was a brief silence between the pair. Lowder 
felt himself unmasked, and at the mercy of his shrewd 
opponent. He tried to recover his usual audacity, but 
in vain. 

At last he said, in a low voice : 

“ How much money do you want ?” 

Palestro considered. 

“ Let me see,” he said. “ You have a splendid home, 
a lovely bride in prospect, and she is an heiress. You 
will be a Milord some day. You shall give me two 
thousand pounds to-morrow night. For that sum now, 
and as much more when you are Milord, I will promise 
by the Holy Maria and all the saints to keep your secret 
inviolate.” 

“ Why not ask me for the crown jewels ? Two 
thousand pounds ! It is impossible !” 

“ You must get it, no matter how. I shall be at this 
spot to-morrow night at ten o’clock. You must bring to 
me the two thousand pounds, or I will betray all to Sir 
Arthur! Mind, no treachery. If anything happens to 
me, Giuditta will see Sir Arthur and tell him all ! You 
had better get me the money. Otherwise you are 
ruined. If you are not here before that hour, I shall 
see Sir Arthur at eleven !” 

Leaving these words ringing in Lowder’s ears, Pales- 
tro glided away into the deeper shadows of the park. 

“Two thousand pounds !” ejaculated the desperate 
usurper. “ I cannot get one-tenth of that sum. And if 
I fail, I am lost ! What shall I do ?” 



CHAPTER IX. 

ANOTHER DOWNWARD STEP. 

For some minutes after the abrupt withdrawal of 
Jacopo Palestro from his presence in the dim Park of 
Tressilian Court, Jasper Lowder stood like a statue, 
paralyzed with horror and despair. 

Absolute ruin yawned before him. He knew that the 
decision of Palestro was like the fiat of Fate — irrevoc- 
able. He knew that any appeals to his mercy or for- 
bearance would be useless. He knew that unless he paid 
into the hands of the ex-scrivener, at the time the latter 
had appointed, the sum Palestro had demanded, he would 
be betrayed to Sir Arthur and to Blanche, and be over- 
whelmed with the ruin he so richly merited. 

“What am I to do?” he asked himself, in a frenzy. 
“ Palestro would be glad to sell out his secret to Sir 
Arthur. Curse the fellow ! He is sharper than I 
thought. How could he trace out a secret I had so care- 
fully hidden ? And how am I to obtain two thousand 
pounds by to-morrow night ? It is impossible.” 

A cold sweat broke out on his forehead. The fever 
raging within him forced him to move back and forth 
in the gloomy path, under the arching trees, like an 
uneasy shadow. What thoughts came to him in that 

[ 95 ] 


96 


GTJY TRESSILIAN’S FATE. 


miserable hour, God and himself only knew. But the 
spirit of murder glared from his wild, bloodshot eyes, 
from his drawn and ghastly face, and lurked about the 
corners of his savage mouth. Had Palestro returned to 
him at that moment, it would have gone hard with the 
Italian. But he did not return, and the impostor kept up 
his weary walk, and raged to and fro with the fury of a 
demon seething in his soul. 

The hour passed. Gradually a calmness born of utter 
desperation took possession of him. 

“The game is not yet finished,” he said to himself. 
“ I have a few hours yet. I must make a move that 
will save me ! but if I fail in that, I must fly to the north 
and to Hester. She will always take me in. Curse that 
Palestro a million times ! I should be tempted to destroy 
him, had he not guarded against my violence by making 
such an act the signal for my own destruction. I must 
pay him the sum he demands. I must retain my posi- 
tion. But where am I to get the two thousand pounds ?” 

He thought of various impossible plans of raising 
money. He could not borrow a sum so large on such 
short notice, and without declaring what he wanted of 
it. He could not ask Sir Arthur for it. He could not 
apply to a professional money-lender at Gloucester, with 
the entire certainty of keeping the transaction secret. 
He could not effect a mortgage upon Guy Tressilian’s 
double farm of Gildethorpe without the fact coming to 
the knowledge of the Baronet. The usurper felt that 
he was driven to stand at bay. 

The British youth of “ expectations ” is familiar with 
many ways of procuring money without earning it, 
when his regular allowances are found inadequate to 
his fancied wants. The practice of calculating upon 
the decease of parents and guardians, and “ borrowing ” 
money, at exorbitant rates of interest on post-obits , was 


ANOTHER DOWNWARD STEP. 


97 


perfectly familiar in theory to Jasper Lowder. He 
gave it his consideration now, but presently rejected 
the idea as not feasible. 

What money-lender would advance so large a sum as 
two thousand pounds, to be repaid when Lowder should 
come into possession of Tressilian Court, when a life 
like Sir Arthur’s, hale, vigorous, athletic, and barely 
middle-aged, stood between the pretended heir and the 
Tressilian wealth ? 

For hours Lowder remained in the park, battling with 
this crisis of his fortunes. The afternoon was nearly 
spent before he had calmed himself sufficiently to 
return to the Court. 

Sir Arthur and Blanche were seated in the great bay- 
window of the drawing-room as the usurper crossed the 
terrace. He lifted his hat to them in an affectation of 
gayety, and walked on with a dragging step and slouch- 
ing gait, entering the grand old mansion. He removed 
his hat and greatcoat in the hall, hanging them upon 
the branching antlers serving as hat-rack, hesitated a 
moment, with his face toward the drawing-room door, 
and then slowly and wearily ascended to his own 
chamber. He did not feel able yet to meet the keen, 
inquiring gaze of the Baronet, or the probable merry 
questioning of Blanche. 

He remained in his own room until he heard the 
ringing of the dinner-bell. Then he emerged, rather 
pale and careworn, it is true, but elegantly dressed and 
perfumed, and made his way to the dining-room. 

The short December day had ended more than an 
hour since. The chandeliers in the great dining-room 
were all aglow. The long crimson curtains were gath- 
ered in folds over the windows and the little garden 
door. A fire was burning redly in the grate. The 
oval table, draped with finest damask, glittered and 


98 


GUY TRESSILIAN’s FATE. 


sparkled with its service of silver and gold, porcelain 
and crystal. All was warmth, light and brightness. 

Sir Arthur and Blanche were already in the room, 
and both seemed rather grave and pre-occupied. The 
Baronet, handsomely attired, looked more than ever 
grand and noble by contrast with the foppish and 
rather effeminate Lowder. Blanche marked her guard- 
ian’s noble appearance, with a secret thrill of dissat- 
isfaction that his supposed son did not more resemble 
him. 

“ Sir Arthur is a thousand times handsomer than 
Guy,” she thought. “ And somehow, he even looks 
fresher and younger at times. If he were only twenty 
years younger than he is — ” 

She did not finish the thought save by a vivid blush 
which Sir Arthur and Lowder both thought called up 
by the admiring glance of the latter. 

Blanche had never looked more lovely than on this 
evening, in her violet velvet dress, with violet ribbons 
filleting her pale golden hair, with the faint flush, like 
the delicate tinting inside a sea-shell, coming and going 
in her clear cheeks, and with great gray eyes, lustrous 
and tender, yet with that wistful sadness which Sir 
Arthur had remarked, and which he failed to compre- 
hend, in their lucid depths. 

The trio took their seats at the table. Purmton, the 
worthy old butler, kept a watchful supervision over the 
two waiters, and the meal progressed almost in silence. 

It was not until the wine and dessert were brought 
on, and the servants, including Purmton, had retired, 
that Sir Arthur’s gravity seemed to relax. Then, as if 
desiring to brighten the social atmosphere, he said, with 
a smile : 

“You look sober, Guy. Even Blanche’s presence 
has not power to dispel the cloud on your face. I fancy 


ANOTHER DOWNWARD STEP. 


99 


you are not yourself since the receipt of that begging 
letter this afternoon, and since your' interview with that 
odd little foreigner.” 

Lowder had fancied himself prepared for any allu- 
sions to Palestro’s letter, and his agitation upon receiv- 
ing it, but he now started involuntarily. 

Sir Arthur marked the gray shadow creeping over 
the usurper’s fair face, and saw that Lowder was more 
than startled — that he was alarmed. 

“You — you saw the fellow ?” stammered Lowder, in 
a hoarse, strange voice. 

“ I caught a glimpse of him as he stepped out of the 
shadow of the park as you approached,” responded Sir 
Arthur, now fully convinced that there was some mys- 
tery in the past of his supposed son. “ Was he not a 
former acquaintance of yours, Guy ?” 

Lowder forced a laugh full of uneasiness. 

“ What a strange idea !” he exclaimed, not looking up 
from the red-cheeked apple he was paring with a hand 
that trembled visibly. “ Why, the fellow was a tramp, a 
mere beggar, who had no doubt inquired the names of 
the wealthy county families, with a view to bettering 
his fortunes at the expense of their purses. My name 
stood somewhere near the top of his list, I fancy. 1 
gave him a half-crown, and bade him begone.” 

Sir Arthur regarded his supposed son with a perplexed 
expression. 

“ But Guy,” he said quietly, “ you were in conversation 
with the fellow nearly an hour. Paxter saw him slink 
out of the Park after you dismissed him. It was then 
nearly two o’clock.” 

“ Paxter ? Ah, the steward !” muttered Lowder. 
“ The fellow may have hung about the park after I told 
him to go. But, of course, I knew nothing of that. As 
I said before, the fellow is an utter stranger to me.” 


100 


GUT TRESSILIAn’s FATE. 


Sir Arthur did not reply, but his look of perplexity 
gave place to one of ill-concealed anxiety. He believed 
Lowder to be lying, and his vague distrust of him deep- 
ened strangely. 

With a sigh, he relinquished a subject so unpleasant 
and unprofitable, and said : 

“ I have been thinking, Guy, of a wedding gift for 
you. I heard last week that the Roy farm, adjoining 
your Gildethorpe, is for sale. Formerty it was a part of 
Gildethorpe, and I have always thought it ought to 
belong to it again. The present owner is obliged to 
sell having encumbered himself with debts. And, in 
short, Guy, I have concluded to buy the Roy farm for 
you, to complete the little estate that came from your 
mother. I have made all the preliminary arrangements, 
and shall conclude the purchase to-morrow in the law- 
yer’s office at Ardleigh, where I have an appointment 
with Mr. Roy at ten o’clock in the morning.” 

“ It will be a princely gift, father,” said Lowder, rais- 
ing his head. “ The Roy farm is one of the finest in 
the shire. How much are you to pay for it ?” 

“ Two thousand pounds.” 

Lowder started again, and drooped his gaze 

Two thousand pounds ! Why, it was the very sum he 
required to avert his impending ruin. 

“ How much of the amount will remain on mort- 
gage ?” he asked, striving to speak carelessly. 

Sir Arthur looked surprised and hurt. 

“ When I make presents, Guy,” he said, rather coldly, 
“ I do not make them with drawbacks and encum- 
brances. I shall pay the money down and take a clear 
title.” 

“ Of course,” Lowder hastened to say, with a depre- 
cating smile. “ I should have taken that for granted, 
only that the sum is so large, and I know that you do 


ANOTHER DOWNWARD STEP. 


101 


not bank at Ardleigh. But, no doubt, you will give 
your check on the Bank of Gloucester in payment of the 
sum ?” 

“ No. On our return from town to-day, I found a 
letter from Mr. Roy awaiting me, in which he requested 
me to pay him in money, as he had some debts to pay 
to-morrow, notes to meet, and so on. On reading the 
note, I immediately sent Paxter over to Gloucester, and 
he was returning with the two thousand pounds in gold, 
when he saw your odd foreign visitor making his way out 
of the park. The money is now in my library safe.” 

Lowder cast down his eyes. There was a gleam in 
them at this announcement that, had Sir Arthur seen 
it, might have revealed to the Baronet something of 
the real character of the man who pretended to be his 
son. 

“ I should think it would be dangerous to have so large 
a sum of money in the house,” remarked Lowder, trifl- 
ing nervously with an almond. “ Paxter might have 
been followed home from the bank by some scoundrel. 
I suppose you will take extra precautions against rob- 
bery ?” 

“ No ; I think extra precautions unnecessary. The 
doors and windows are amply secured. I may perhaps 
loosen Tiger, the watch dog, but I do not care to reveal 
to the servants, thoroughly as I trust them, that there 
is such an amount of money under this roof.” 

Lowder declared his approval of this resolution, and 
adroitly turned the subject, exhibiting a gayety in 
strong contrast to his recent silence and gloom. 

The little party presently returned to the drawing- 
room. Lowder exerted himself to appear agreeable 
and fascinating, in which effort he was successful. Sir 
Arthur listened to his gay sallies with a thoughtful, pre- 
occupied air, but Blanche was as merry and bright and 


102 


GUY TRESSILIAn’s FATE, 


witching as even she could well be, and Lowder’s love 
for her received a new impetus. 

Blanche played upon the grand piano, and the young 
betrothed pair sang together a variety of sweet old bal- 
lads, while Sir Arthur sat near the hearth, shading his 
eyes with his hands. 

The evening passed swiftly. At nine o’clock tea was 
brought in on a tray. At ten, Blanche said good-night 
and withdrew, going up to her room. A little later, 
Lowcier, professing to feel unusually tired and sleepy, 
also withdrew, retiring to his chamber. 

Sir Arthur sat by the drawing-room fire until the lit- 
tle ormolu clock chimed the hour of eleven. Then he 
arose wearily, covered the dying fire with ashes, extin- 
guished the lights, and made a tour of the lower floor 
of the house to assure himself that the windows and 
doors were well fastened. In spite of himself, the sug- 
gestions of Lowder had inspired him with a sense of 
uneasiness in regard to the safety of the money in the 
library safe. This sense of uneasiness clung to him 
as he went up to his room, and kept him awake long 
after he went to bed. 

Meanwhile Lowder was in his private chamber, wait- 
ing ! On entering his sitting-room, he had found a 
pleasant fire and lights. His dressing-gown hung 
across the chair, and his slippers were on the hearth- 
rug. Exchanging his coat and boots for these more 
comfortable articles of house attire, he walked to and 
fro the room softly, pausing often at his door to listen. 

It seemed a long time to him before he heard Sir 
Arthur ascend the stairs wearily, and enter his own 
room across the hall. 

“ He will soon be asleep,” he then muttered, resum- 
ing his almost noiseless walk. “ How glum the Bar- 
onet seems of late ! He finds it hard to have all this 


ANOTHER DOWNWARD STEP. 


103 


billing and cooing going on under his very eyes. He 
is struggling with his love for Blanche in after a heroic 
fashion, but he could sooner tear his heart out than 
uproot his love for her. And I fancy he has another 
grief. He is disappointed in his son. He expected a 
different heir from the one he has now acknowledged. 
He does not find me as frank, open and truthful as he 
expected. One cannot be on one’s guard all the time, 
and I have now and then given him glimpses of my 
real nature, quite unintentionally, and in spite of my- 
self, and I fancy the glimpses appall him. But he does 
not suspect the truth — that I am not his son ! And if I 
go on as I have begun, and entrench myself in a mar- 
riage with Blanche, I shall be safe, whatever happens. 
But everything depends upon ho\Y I meet this danger 
threatened by that cursed Italian !” 

He quickened his pace, knitting his brows in a heavy 
scowl. 

The reader may have guessed the scheme that was 
now agitating his soul. He had determined to possess 
- himself by a bold robbery of the two thousand pounds 
in Sir Arthur’s safe, and with the sum thus gained, pur- 
chase the silence and absence of Palestro. 

“ It will be no worse than what I have done already,” 
he said to himself. “ What I have already had from 
Sir Arthur is actually obtained from him by robbery. 
It belongs in reality to that idiot Guy. As to the money 
now in the safe, Sir Arthur means it for me, and I pre- 
fer the money to a farm. The question is, how am I to 
get it undetected ?” 

He considered the question at great length. 

His pretty, small clock struck the hour of twelve, but 
still he was not ready to enter upon his nefarious under- 
taking. It rung out the half hour past midnight, and 


104 : 


GUT TRESSILIAn’s FATE. 


Lovvder started, as if the sound had been a summons to 
begin his treacherous and wicked task. 

He extinguished his lights, and crept across the floor, 
opening his door softly, and peering out into the long 
and silent corridor. A light burned dimly against the 
wall, and the hall was full of shadows, but no living 
creature was visible. The silence of the dead of night 
filled the house. 

Closing the door of his room behind him, Lowder 
crept silently across the dim corridor to the door of Sir 
Arthur’s chamber. 

All was still within. No light gleamed through the 
key-hole. Lowder listened intently, and heard the 
sound of low and regular breathing. 

He turned the knob gently and opened the door peer- 
ing into the room. A faint, dim, shadowy light pervaded 
the apartment, proceeding from the low fire dying 
slowly on the hearth. The dressing bureau, the easy- 
chair and other articles of furniture were but indis- 
tinctly revealed in the gloom. 

Lowder pushed open the door yet further, and crept 
over the threshold. Sir Arthur was lying in his French 
bed, and his low regular breathing sounded like that of 
a sleeper. The white curtains that fell from the high 
canopy and draped his couch were parted so that Low- 
der could see the noble face lying back on the pillow, 
and could even see that the eyes were closed. 

He crept into the room. 

Sir Arthur’s garments were lying across a chair, near 
the hearth, and just where the few dim rays of firelight 
were falling. Lowder knew in which pocket to look for 
the key of the library safe. He sidled toward the chair 
with the step of a cat, keeping a keen, anxious watch 
upon the bed. He took up the Baronet’s waistcoat, and 
felt in its inner pocket for the treasure he sought. A 


ANOTHER DOWNWARD STEP. 


105 


private note-book fell out, a bunch of keys, and finally 
a thin steel key — the key of the safe. 

Lowder clutched it, and still keeping watch of the 
Baronet with a tigerish look, he began his retreat from 
the room. Slowly, softly, nearly silently, like some 
shadow of ill omen, he backed towards the door. 
Breathless, with an awful terror of discovery, he 
gained the threshold, and slipped into the hall. He 
closed the door gently, and made his way to a hall chair, 
where he sat down, ghastly, with eyes starting, and face 
bathed in a cold sweat which oozed from every pore. 

“ I would not go through that ordeal again for twice 
two thousand pounds,” he thought, with a convulsive 
trembling of his whole body. “ I was never meant for 
a robber. Would to Heaven my lines had been cast in 
pleasant places — as pleasant as those of Guy Tressilian 
— and I might this night have been wealthy and hon- 
ored, instead of the wretched being I am ! But better 
this,” he added, beginning to recover his courage, 
“ than to be the poor toiler I must have been as Jasper 
Lowder ! Better wickedness and wealth than virtue 
and poverty !” 

Jasper Lowder, like many another man who enters 
upon a life of crime and ill-doing, did not count the cost. 
A life of virtue and poverty with Hester and his boy 
would have had its cares, its toils, its severe privations, 
but his conscience would have been clear, his soul with- 
out stain, and he would have had joys which no life of 
gilded crime could bring him. And though now his 
existence was one of splendid ease, though he was known 
as the heir of a fine old county family and great estate, 
though he expected to some day write his name “ Sir Guy 
Tressilian,” he carried an unquiet heart in his breast, a 
guilty soul alive with terrors, and he was obliged to 
plunge into newer crimes to sustain his false position. 


106 


GUY TRESSILIAn’s FATE. 


Setting aside the great questions of right and wrong, 
looking at the matter after the manner of business men, 
did it pay him ? 

He sat for a few minutes upon the hall chair, until he 
had ceased his trembling, and then he entered his own 
room, lighted one of his candles by a coal from his grate, 
and made his way like a shadow down the stairs, softly 
entering the library. 

Closing the door after him, he held the light above 
his head, and surveyed the grand apartment, half fear- 
ful lest, after all, Sir Arthur might have left a sentinel 
in the room. But no one was there The air was cold, 
the fire having long since died out. The long windows 
were shrouded with their damask curtains. The tall 
bookcases, lining the walls, and crowned with marble 
busts, looked shadowy, and the busts gleamed like 
ghostly faces, staring at the intruder from the depths 
of gloom. 

Lowder was nervous and uneasy. He fancied that he 
heard a stealthy tread in the hall. Listening until he 
had persuaded himself that he was mistaken, he moved 
toward the safe. 

There was a little delay in fitting the key into the 
lock, but presently the great door swung wide on its 
hinges, and the interior of the safe was displayed to the 
intruder. 

Flashing the light up and down, he surveyed the 
drawers and shelves with an eager scrutiny. The object 
of which he was in search, a great canvas bag filled with 
gold, was upon the lowest shelf. He seized it, weighing 
it with his hands. 

“ How heavy it is !” he muttered. “ And now I have 
got it, where am I to hide it ? Fortunate that it is in 
gold. Sir Arthur could have traced the bank-notes. He 
always takes down the numbers.” 


ANOTHER DOWNWARD STEP. 


107 


He glanced over the deeds, leases and other docu- 
ments lying at hand, took up and glanced over a packet 
of Guy Tressilian’s letters to his father which had been 
carefully treasured, and then, not daring to linger 
longer, he lifted out the bag of money, and deposited it 
on the floor, preparatory to relocking the safe. 

At that moment he fancied he heard a stealthy noise 
at the door. Glancing quickly in that direction, he saw 
that the door was slightly ajar, but he saw no person. 

“ Ah !” he thought, “ I did not close the door perfectly. 
The wind has blown it from the latch. It’s no matter. 
I am through now.” 

He closed and locked the safe. Then he paused, un- 
certain what to do next. He desired to make the robbery 
seem the act of a housebreaker. This he thought could 
be done by opening a window. He did not feel adequate 
to the task of restoring Sir Arthur’s key to the place 
from which he had subtracted it, and therefore tossed 
it upon the floor. 

The money remained to be disposed of. He closed 
the door for the second time that opened into the hall, 
without taking the precaution to look for the cause of 
its opening. Had he looked into the hall, he might have 
seen a drooping figure and a pale, distressful face, and 
a pair of anguished eyes that had watched his whole 
sinister proceeding in a dumb and awful amazement. 

Lifting the bag of gold and extinguishing his candle, 
Jasper Lowder hurried to one of the long windows, of 
which he quickly undid the fastenings. He opened the 
window, and, with his burden closely clasped, gently 
lowered himself to the terrace. Once upon the ground, 
he ran along the green sward, turned the corner of the 
mansion, and hurried toward the park. 

Penetrating the shadows to a lonely and secluded 
spot, seldom visited save by the park-keepers, he found 


108 


GUY TRESSILIAN’S FATE. 


a hollow tree which he had previously remarked, and 
which had been permitted to remain on account of its 
great age and picturesque appearance. In the hollow 
heart of this old tree he thrust his stolen treasure. 

“It will be safe here,” he thought. “To-night I 
will give it to Palestro. I wish I might have arranged 
the robbery to make it seem more like the work of a 
skillful burglar, but I am too nervous, and have not 
time. The heir of Tressjlian Court will not be suspect- 
ed of stealing the money, and so long as I am not sus- 
pected I do not care who is. I can easily persuade Sir 
Arthur that it is the work of some bungling scoundrel 
who tracked Paxter home from Gloucester !” 

Well satisfied with his night’s exploit, he returned to 
the Court, and re-entered the mansion by the library 
window. The door leading into the hall was closed, and 
there was no indication that any one had entered the 
room in his absence. 

Leaving the window open, Lowder crossed the floor 
noiselessly and crept up to his own chamber. He closed 
and locked his door, and sat down by his fire, a smile of 
successful villainy curling his lips. 

“ All is well !’ he whispered. “ And I am safe ! So 
much for boldness and skill !” 

Ah ! if he had known that there had been a secret 
witness to his crime ! 



CHAPTER X. 

HELP AT LAST. 

The situation of Olla Rymple in the brigands’ cavern 
in Italy — threatened with the immediate and horrible 
death of her two faithful servitors, and unable to save 
them save by the utter sacrifice of herself — was suffic- 
iently appalling to overwhelm a heart braver even than 
that of our brave, noble, bright young heroine. 

It would be untrue to say that her high heroism did 
not desert her at that moment. Mrs. Popley and hon- 
est, affectionate Jim Popley, were very dear to her. 
The one had been her nurse, and both had been her 
attendants from her childhood. Their pale, anguished 
faces and cries for mercy were like so many daggers 
plunged into her heart. 

Could she deliberately speak the word that was to be 
the signal for their destruction ? 

Her star-like eyes were flooded with tears. Clasping 
her hands in a terror of entreaty, she looked up at her 
' smiling enemy — the triumphing Red Carvelli— and 
cried out : 

“ You cannot be so wicked ! They have never harmed 
you ! They are only humble, honest people whose mis- 
fortune it is that they have been so true to me ! If 

[109] 


110 


GUY TRESSILIAn’s FATE. 


there is a spark of good in your soul, take back your 
cruel words, and let them live !” 

The brigand chief smiled disagreeably, revealing all 
his white teeth. 

“ Ha ! So I have crushed your spirit, have I, my 
haughty, untamed eaglet ?” he demanded. “ And you 
plead to me for mercy ? Again I say how little you 
know me ! You had better plead to the tiger to relin- 
quish the prey she has between her teeth, as plead with 
me to release this couple. They are of no consequence 
in themselves, but it is not in the nature of woman to 
see even a faithful servant killed before her eyes when 
she has but to speak to save them ! Their fate, Miladi, 
is in your hands, not mine !” 

“ Oh, cruel ! cruel !” sobbed Olla, in wild despair. 

“ Nay, fair Signorina ; it is not I who am cruel. It is 
you ! You can save them if you will !” 

Olla only moaned in her anguish. 

“ Hush, Miss Olla, my poor lamb !” cried her old 
nurse, her anguished old face lighting up with the glow 
of a perfect devotion. “ You must not promise to marry 
that monster to save me ! A life gained at such a price 
would be worse to me than death. And what is death ? 
Only a passage from all these troubles into a land of 
brightness and peace ! I shall be better off, my dar- 
ling. And every one has to die sooner or later. I have 
had a long and pleasant life, and if it were not for the 
leaving you, I should not find it hard to die now. Tell 
him you will not marry him, Miss Olla. Do no evil for 
the sake of a fancied good.” 

“ Do not marry that robber to save us, Miss Olla,” 
said Jim Popley, his face reflecting his mother’s devo- 
tion. “ I say as mother says. And I say, too, that if you 
marry him to save us, I won’t have life on such terms. 


HELP AT LAST. 


Ill 


I will kill myself as soon as I have my freedom. I will 
never live to witness your misery !” 

The devotion of the pair but added to Olla’s despair- 
ing anguish. Nobility knows neither wealth nor social 
gradations, and these two servants were as truly noble 
as any high-born, titled personage in their native land. 
Olla’s heart warmed to them even in her present misery. 

“You hear, Signore ?” she asked of the brigand chief. 

“ I hear !” he answered grimly. “ I have but to 
repeat what I have said before, that you shall be my 
wife whether you will or no ! I am willing to have the 
priest say his canting words over our union. Indeed, 
since I have set out to have an orthodox wedding, I will 
have it for the sake of my men who want enlivening. 
If you choose to hold out until your servants are killed, 
do so. But my wife you will be this very night, and 
that by the sanction of this trembling priest. You 
should begin to know me by this time !” 

His determined voice, his savage words, the fierce 
gleam of his eyes, all told Olla that she was struggling 
vainly. Her low, tremulous cry, as the truth came 
home to her soul, thrilled through the cavern. 

Guy Tressiiian, who had been until now passive and 
bewildered in the grasp of the brigand who had seized 
him, roused himself at that wailing cry. The old pas- 
sionate fire blazed in his blue, fearless eyes. The glow 
of resolution mantled his face. A stern and awful 
smile gathered about his mouth. He looked stern, 
handsome and terrible. 

The cloud that had pressed so heavily upon his brain 
was, as we have said, nearly lifted. But the merest 
vail shrouded from him his past. His intellect and his 
heart had aroused from their slumbers. He was an 
imbecile no longer, but a man endowed with manhood’s 
highest attributes. 


112 


GUY TRESSILIAN S FAT5I . 


The lion spirit that had lain dormant within him since 
his shipwreck now burst its thralls. With a cry that 
echoed through the whole cavern he wrenched himself 
from the grasp of his astonished keeper, tore from the 
hand of the latter a pistol, and bounded upon the dais, 
placing himself at Olla’s side in the attitude of a pro- 
tector. 

Had a bomb burst in the cavern at that moment, the 
people within it could not have been more startled. 

Olla had not realized how great a change the simple 
operation performed by the brigand “ doctor ” had 
wrought in her charge. Her astonishment, therefore, 
nearly equalled that of Carvelli, who started back in 
amazement, crying out : 

“ How is this ? Is this the ‘ imbecile ’ whom we took 
captive ? Or has he deceived us all, and but played 
the imbecile ?” 

No one answered him. The “ doctor’s ” face was as 
blank and wonder-stricken at that of his comrades. 

The Red Carvelli turned his wondering puzzled stare 
upon the spirited young man, whose sternly glowing 
eyes and commanding expression increased his bewil- 
derment. 

Olla, taking advantage of the momentary lull, sur- 
veyed the rows of faces along the walls. Not one 
evinced a kindly feeling for her. All were stolid, more 
or less brutal, and eager for the promised amusement 
of a wedding. Not one pair of dark eyes gave her a 
friendly look. But one of the men, better dressed than 
the others, who was the lieutenant of the outlaw band, 
and who had alternated glances of admiration at Olla 
with sullen looks at Carvelli, and who was evidently a 
discontented and ambitious spirit, let fall, as by acci- 
dent, a gleaming stiletto. 

As it spun to the floor, falling with a ringing sound, 


HELP AT LAST. 


113 


Olla sprang forward and caught it up. Then as quickly 
she returned to the dais, and to Tressilian’s side, the 
weapon gleaming in her hand. 

“ Now I am prepared to answer you, Signore,” she 
cried, her great dusky eyes flashing. “ You have asked 
me to be your wife. I say I will not marry you. I am 
not yet so weak that I care to save my life at the 
expense of all that is dearer to me than life. You have 
threatened to kill my friends, and to make me your wife 
by force. I will free myself from you and rejoin them 
in the other land in the moment you carry your 
threat into execution. God will surely pardon me for 
sending myself into His presence unsummoned in this 
awful strait.” 

She held the stiletto pointed at her heart with a hand 
as firm as in her happiest hours. She faced the brigand 
with a countenance strangely calm and steadfast, and 
glowing with her terrible resolution. 

“She shall not die alone !” cried Guy Tressilian, his 
clear voice ringing through the vaulted cavern with the 
force and richness of bugle notes. “ This pistol has five 
chambers all loaded. In the moment Olla Rymple falls, 
you brigand chief, will also die ! More. Lay but a 
hand upon those poor people whom she loves to harm 
them, give but the order for their death, and that instant 
you shall die !” Tressilian looked at that moment like 
an avenging Fate. Carvelli quailed before him. The 
brigands regarded him as a master spirit. The men 
who held the two Popleys in their grip began to cower, 
lest the bright and daring young Englishman should 
turn his weapon against them. 

For the pace of a few moments a dead silence reigned. 
A pin might have been heard to drop in the great 
cavern. 

Olla felt her soul thrill with a new feeling toward 


114 


GUY TRESSILIAN 5 S FATE. 


Tressilian. She had pitied him with a yearning tender- 
ness, much like that a sister might have felt. But now, 
as he revealed himself to her in much of his natural 
character, she was proud of him ; she respected him ; her 
soul kindled within her with a shy, strange feeling, which 
she had neither time nor skill to analyze. Was this 
feeling love ? 

The silence was broken by a loud, hoarse laugh from 
the brigand chief. 

“ Affairs have come to a pretty pass when I am defied 
in my own domain !” he cried. “ We will see if the pris- 
oners are to rule their jailers ! Ho, there, my men ! At 
my word of command, you will take this Inglese in 
close captivity.*’ 

With a wave of his hand he designated the men 
whom he desired to undertake the service. 

They emerged from the ranks with an evident dis- 
like for the task before them. And indeed few men 
would have liked to assail that haughty, upright figure, 
which stood firm as a rock, or come too near that sternly 
awful face with its blue, blazing eyes like burning 
stars. 

“ Let your men come on,” said Tressilian coolly. 
“ They have no ‘ imbecile ’ to deal with, but a man who 
will defend his charge to the death. Let them come.” 

The men abruptly retreated to the ranks from which 
they had emerged. They had no desire to obey an invi- 
tation given in that voice and in that manner. 

“ Cowards !” cried Carvelli. “ You shall see me sub- 
due this haughty braggart. Look !” 

He drew his poinard and bounded toward Tressilian. 

The young Englishman leaped aside, avoiding the 
onslaught, and fired his pistol. It took effect in the 
breast of Carvelli. 

With a yell that echoed through the cavern, the brig- 


HELP AT LAST. 


115 


and chief moved onward toward Tressilian, tottered, 
reeled, and fell. 

In an instant, as the smoke of the pistol cleared, all 
was wild confusion and noise. 

The Popleys, finding themselves loosened in the gem 
eral turmoil, flew to the side of their young mistress. 
Jim Popley caught up a pistol from the form of the 
prostrate outlaw, and the four captives retreated to a 
distant corner and stood at bay. 

The “ doctor ” hastened to the aid of his chief and 
examining the wound, pronounced it not dangerous. 
Carvelli struggled to his feet, and glared at Tressilian 
with a look of hatred. 

** I meant to keep the fellow alive,” hecried, “ but no 
man can wound me and live to boast of his prowess. 
Kill the Inglese where he stands ! Fall upon him, my 
men. Shoot down the whole party save the girl. Let 
not a hair of her head be harmed. I will exact from 
her full vengeance for this night’s affair ! On them, 
comrades ! Strike them down where they stand !” 

That moment was the culmination of all the perils 
and sufferings of Tressilian and Olla. 

They put themselves in an attitude of defence, with 
the resolve written upon each heroic face, to die bravely 
and together. 

The frantic voice of the Red Carvelli again rang 
through the chamber, urging on his men to the attack. 

Carbines and pistols were presented. The outlaws, 
grim and hard, waited but the action of one bolder than 
the rest to open the terrible work of destruction. 

But that work did not begin. The two parties were 
still measuring each other with their fierce, burning 
glances, when a sentinel rushed into the cavern, pant- 
ing, breathless, panic-stricken. 

“ The troops ! the troops !” he shouted. “ They are 


116 


GUT TRESSILIAN’S FATE. 


here — at our very door ! Canaro has played us false. 
Madre di Dio ! Here they come !” 

And even as he spoke a band of troops came filing 
into the cavern, having followed close at the heels of 
the sentinel. The hundred lights flashed upon their 
gay uniforms and equipments. The steel of their 
weapons glittered like stars. The brigands regarded 
them in an utter and terrible dismay. 

And well they might. They were caught like rats in 
a trap. Their mountain fastness, impregnable to force, 
had yielded to treachery. 

And while the outlaws stood as if turned to stone, the 
leader of the troops cried out in a trumpet voice the 
single word that, to the brigands, came as the knell of 
doom — the word : 

“ Surrender !” 


CHAPTER XI. 

HOMEWARD BOUND. 

The appearance of the Neapolitan troops at the 
brigand’s cavern, at the fateful moment that beheld the 
crisis of Olla’s and Tressilian’s perils, can be briefly 
explained. 

As the reader has been informed, the recent outrage 
inflicted by the Red Carvelli, in depriving an English 
subject of his ears, had startled the Italian Government 
from its long apathy and indifference toward the out- 
laws swarming the country, and making the very name 
of Italy a by-word among the nations ; and an expedi- 
tion had accordingly been ordered to proceed against 


HOMEWARD BOUND. 


117 


the brigands, with orders to exterminate or capture the 
entire band. A price had also been put upon the head 
of the Red Carvelli. 

This expedition had quitted Naples quietly, almost 
secretly, on the very morning on which Olla and Tres- 
silian, with their attendants, had set out in great haste 
in a voiture, under the guidance of the treacherous Lip- 
ari, for Termoli. In consequence of private information, 
the officer in command of the troops directed his search 
among the ravines and gullies of the Monte del Matese. 

He had been thus employed two days and a night, 
finding himself, at the close of the second day, appar- 
ently no nearer success than at first. 

As the sun was setting at the close of this second day, 
however, and the small body of pursuers had come to a 
halt at the very spot which had witnessed the capture 
of Olla and her party on the previous day, an Italian 
laborer, apparently a vine-dresser, came singing along 
the road. The captain of the troops had accosted him, 
making inquiries of him. The vine-dresser, like many 
other inhabitants of that neighborhood, was an ally 
and spy of the Red Carvelli. Being shrewd, and not 
recognizing the force of the old saying, that there is 
“honor among thieves,” he had seen an opportunity 
for his own advancement, and had offered to betray the 
brigands and guide the troops to the outlaw’s moun- 
tain fastness upon the promise of the payment to him of 
the large reward offered for Carvelli’s capture. 

The payment of this sum had been guaranteed to 
him, and he had thereupon guided the troops to the 
hidden retreat in the depths of the gloomy defile. 
Their approach in the gloom of the early evening, as 
they crept silently along amid the shadows, had not 
been detected by any sentinel until the treacherous 


118 


GUT TRESSILIAN’S FATE. 


guide Canaro had led them up the steps in the rock to 
the very mouth of the concealed cavern. 

The preoccupation of the brigands in the events 
occurring within the subterranean chamber had favored 
the pursuers, and when the sentinel had discovered the 
approach, and rushed in to give the alarm, they had 
followed at his heels. 

Never was an arrival more opportune. Five minutes 
later, and they whose varying fortunes we have been 
portraying would have been ruthlessly slain. 

As that summons to surrender rang through the 
apartment, the brigands retreated hastily to the dais, 
their prisoners all forgotten, and faced the intruders 
with sullen glances of defiance. 

“ Surrender !” repeated the brigand chief, his eyes 
blazing. “ Never ! If you want us, take us, but we’ll 
make a stiff fight, I warn you.” 

He raised his carbine, and glared at the band of 
intruders with greedy, wolfish eyes, as if seeking one 
particular face. 

“Resistance is useless,” replied the captain of the 
troops. “ You are hemmed in. Escape is impossible. 
Again I command you to surrender !” 

At that moment the pale, anxious face of Canaro 
emerged from the group of soldiers, and the traitor 
regarded his late master with speculating eyes. 

As quick as thought, Carvelli fired at him, wounding 
him in the head. With a wild shriek, the traitor leaped 
into the air and fell dead. 

“ So much for treachery !” cried Carvelli. “ That 
score is wiped out. Come on, Signore Capitano. 
Come !” 

It was evident that the brigands meant to resist to 
the death. The army officer gave a brief word of com- 


HOMEWARD BOUND. 


119 


mand to his men, and from the throats of their ready 
carbines poured a deadly volley. 

The noise in that confined space was absolutely deaf- 
ening, mingled as it was with shouts and curses and 
groans. The smoke was impenetrable. Under cover 
of the sudden gloom, Olla and her friends crept from 
their perilous position to a corner nearer the entrance, 
the two women ensconcing themselves in a rude niche in 
the wall, which was amply protected by two jutting 
rocks. 

Tressilian and Popley hurried to join the ranks of the 
troops, and to take their parts in the task of capturing 
the brigands. 

The outlaws responded to the sally of the troops by 
an irregular volley. Carvelli urged on his men, shout- 
ing like a madman. A perfect pandemonium was 
inaugurated. Presently a hand to hand battle was 
raging, and shots, shrieks, groans and prayers filled the 
dim chamber. Now and then a random shot brought 
down a lantern from the wall. The fire was trampled 
out. The table was upset, and its display of food and 
wine were trodden under foot. 

The conflict was short, sharp and terrible. So long 
as Carvelli’s frenzied voice was heard animating his men, 
the outlaws fought like tigers. But at last those fierce 
tones were concentrated in one wild dying wail, and the 
Red Carvelli fell under the dagger of the army captain 
—dead. His lieutenant was killed a minute later, and, 
deprived of their leaders, panic-stricken, doomed, the 
miserable remnant of the band cried out unanimously, 
announcing their surrender. 

“ Lay down your arms !” cried the Captain of the 
troops. “ Back against the wall there. When the smoke 
clears, we will see what is to be done with you.” 

The smoke cleared presently sufficiently for the Cap- 


120 


GUY TRESSILIAN’s FATE. 


tain’s purpose. The rocky floor was found to be strewn 
with dead and dying outlaws. Of the attacking party 
but five had been killed outright, and but seven had 
been wounded. 

The surviving brigands were duly fettered, and the 
leader of the troops then turned his attention to the 
small party of English captives whose presence he had 
before remarked. 

“ Who are you ?” he demanded of Tressilian. “ What 
have you been doing here ?” 

“ We were prisoners, Signore,” returned Tressilian 
politely. “ Your prowess has released us. Olla !” 

He held out his hand, and Olla and Mrs. Popley 
emerged from their retreat, the former coming forward 
and taking the hand of Tressilian. 

“ The brigand chief has captured yonder priest,” con- 
tinued Tressilian, indicating the worthy priest, who now 
advanced from the shadow of a projecting rock behind 
which he had hidden himself, “ and was in the act of 
attempting to force himself as a husband upon this 
young English lady, whom he captured yesterday. He 
would have killed us all had you not arrived at the 
moment you did.” 

The priest confirmed Tressilian’s story. 

“ You are free now, Milord,” said the Captain, raising 
his hat courteously, and greatly impressed with the 
noble carriage and handsome face of Tressilian, and the 
glowing beauty of Olla. “ We will escort you back to 
Naples, should you desire to return there. We shall 
start within the hour.” 

“ Yes, we will return to Naples,” said Olla. “ It will 
be better to do so than to try to procure conveyance to 
Tremoli. And I now believe,” she added, “ that no 
necessity has existed for this flight across the country. 


HOMEWARD BOUND. 


121 


It was all a conspiracy between Carvelli and his sister, 
the keeper of the Vesuvius Inn.” 

The Captain paid but little heed to the last sentence. 
His wounded and dead remained to be cared for. The 
former were speedily made as comfortable as circum. 
stances would permit, and the surgeon of the troops 
then applied himself to the task of ministering to the 
wounded outlaws. The Captain deputed a number of 
men to carry out and bury the dead on both sides, and 
the rites of sepulture were performed in the lonely and 
gloomy defile by the light of torches. 

The melancholy duty over, the cavern was investi- 
gated, and its spoils taken possession of by the victors. 
Food and wine were found in one of the cells which 
served as a larder, and the men ate and drank. 

It was midnight when the party quitted the cavern 
and set out on the return to Naples. One of the brigands 
indicated the spot where the horses belonging to the 
band might be found, and Olla, Tressilian and the Pop- 
leys were well mounted. The brigands were also 
mounted, the captured spoils were secured upon led 
horses, and the cavalcade threaded the narrow and dark 
defile, gained the high road, and set out at a brisk canter 
for Naples. 

It was a strange ride that, through the lovely, pleas- 
ant night. The moon atose, and the stars shone. The 
vineyards, the pretty, picturesque cottages and low 
cabins along the road-side, the orange groves, the olive 
orchards — all these had a strange beauty, seen in the 
moonlight and starlight. The Captain and his officers 
talked together, congratulating themselves upon their 
success, which was expected to make them famous. 
The troops jested and laughed, already forgetful of their 
dead comrades. The prisoners rode on, strongly guarded, 
in sullen silence. The Popleys kept near to their young 


122 


GUY TRESSILIAN > S FATE. 


mistress, and 011a and Tressilian rode a little apart from 
the others, but so close together that Guy could grasp 
the girl’s bridle-rein. 

The relations between the two had greatly changed 
since they had before traversed that lonely road. On 
the journey out from Naples, Olla had been the pro- 
tector, Guy the gentle, clinging dependent. But now 
Tressilian assumed the care of Olla as his right. He 
slackened his pace when she was tired ; he led her horse 
when they came to some dangerous point in the road ; 
he talked to her cheerfully, drawing from her all her 
history, and learning at full length all she knew, or sup- 
posed she knew, concerning himself, and proved himself 
so agreeable, so gently courteous, so attentive and so ten- 
der, that Olla's respect for him deepened with every 
moment. 

“ His sleeping soul has waked at last,” she thought, 
with a half sigh, as she looked up into the grave, hand- 
some face framed in masses of tawny hair, and lighted 
up by soul-lit eyes. “ I meant to be his sister — his 
friend ; but now — ” 

Again she sighed. 

If her heart was unquiet, so also was that of Guy 
Tressilian. His ardent nature, bursting from the bonds 
that had held it in a close confinement, turned to this 
glorious young girl as to a shrine. Her dusky eyes, 
soft and radiant, were brighter to him than the glowing 
stars. Her small, noble head, with its wealth of jetty 
tresses, her bright dark face, her tender mouth, her 
slight, lithe figure, all made up a picture of rare spirit 
and beauty, and he felt his whole heart go out to her in 
a worshipping tenderness. 

Yet he dared not express his feeling save in an 
occasional rapt glance which Olla failed to see. 

Mile after mile was traversed in the moonlight and 


HOMEWARD BOUND. 


123 


starlight. The night wore on, and the gray dawn of 
the lovely Italian morning broke at last. 

At about six o’clock, before Naples was actually astir, 
the cavalcade rode slowly past the Vesuvius Inn. The 
hostelry was already open, and Giuditta, in her bright, 
peasant costume, stood in the open doorway. 

She , glanced at the small body of troops in careless 
scrutiny, but suddenly started as she beheld the prison- 
ers under close guard. One of them, the “ Doctor,” 
made a gesture to her with his fettered hands — a ges- 
ture that declared to her the truth, that her brother 
was dead and the band destroyed. 

She reeled and leaned heavily against the door-post, 
at the same moment that she beheld Olla and Tressilian 
riding side by side, and followed closely by the Popleys. 

The sight of Tressilian free affected her more than 
all else. The threatened loss of her “ golden goose,” 
from whose close detention she and Palestro expected 
to realize a fortune, for a moment deprived her of sight, 
even of all sensation. 

At length she recovered herself sufficiently to look 
after the departing riders. 

“ Guiseppe was not among the prisoners,” she said to 
herself. “ He has sworn never to be taken alive. He 
is killed, as that despairing gesture of the ‘ doctor ’ told 
me ! Killed ! And Sir Tresolino is free ! He will go 
to England. I must write to Jacopo by to-day’s mail. 
I dare not telegraph, lest others see the message. Pray 
the saints that Jacopo may have secured his fortune by 
this time !” 

She hurried into the inn to write her letter. 

Meanwhile the party rode on, entering the city. 
Taking their leave of the Captain, with many expres- 
sions of their gratitude to him for their timely rescue, 
Olla and Tressilian, with their attendants, proceeded to 


124 


GUY TRESSILIAN ’s FATE. 


the Hotel Della Crocelle, where they ordered rooms and 
a breakfast. 

Both of these orders were promptly attended to. 
After partaking of tea and toast, the four, in defiance 
to all hygienic rules, retired to their several beds, where 
they slept soundly until noon. 

At that hour they met again in their common 
sitting-room. The greeting between Tressilian and 
Olla was warm but quiet. They were standing with 
hands clasped in each other’s, when Jim Popley came 
in, as ruddy and good-natured as of old. 

“ If you please, Miss Olla,” he exclaimed, “ there is a 
steamer of the Two Sicilies' line which sails for Mar- 
seilles at three this afternoon. I have taken cabin pas- 
sage for four persons in her. I have also made inquiries, 
and cannot find that Mr. Gower has come to Naples at 
all in his pursuit of you. He has no doubt gone on to 
England upon some false trail, or thinking to intercept 
you there.” 

Olla was greatly encouraged with this view of the 
case. Tressilian shared her joy. Dinner was presently 
served, and after the meal the Popleys took their repast 
in a sitting-room across the hall. At half-past two 
o’clock, the four proceeded in a carriage to the steamer, 
which was lying alongside the pier. They went on 
board hastening to their state-rooms, where they 
remained until after the steamer was under weigh — and 
all chance of their detention on any pretence whatso- 
ever had passed. 

The journey to Marseilles, occupying some three 
days, passed without any incident worthy of mention. 
Olla and Tressilian being unafflicted with sea-sickness, 
paced the deck day and evening arm in arm, and in 
those hours of continuous communion they grew to 


HOMEWARD BOUND. 


125 


know each other as they could not have done in months 
of ordinary social intercourse. 

They disembarked at Marseilles on Tuesday after- 
noon, and proceeded directly to the Grand Hotel 
Noailles — the same hotel at which Jasper Lowder had 
stopped, on his arrival at Marseilles from Palermo, and 
where he had registered his name as “ Guy Tressilian.” 

They procured suitable rooms. Popley, once more 
alert and business-like, registered their arrival as that 
of “ Mr. Jasper Lowder and party.” 

Being greatly fatigued, they remained at the Hotel 
Noailles until the following morning, when they pro- 
ceeded by the 11.30 train to Paris — the same train by 
which Lowder had journeyed some weeks before. 

They arrived in Paris at about seven the following 
morning. Thinking it quite possible that her guardian 
might have placed some one upon the look-out for her at 
the principal hotels, Olla consulted with Tressilian and 
decided to go to some small, family hotel, where they 
would remain until the next day, Tressilian beginning 
to grow feverish from fatigue and his long excitement, 
and positively requiring rest. 

An examination of Bradshaw’s Guide was entered 
upon, and Olla selected a quiet, family hotel in the Rue 
Castiglione, but a few doors from the Rue Rivoli, and 
of course quite near the Tuileries gardens. They drove 
to the hotel, secured rooms, and entered upon their 
needed interval of rest with a feeling of security. 

This hotel, as it proved, was the best for their pur- 
pose which they could have selected, being quiet, and 
but little visited by the wealthier or more fashionable 
of English tourists. Mr. Gower would never have sus- 
pected his ward of sufficient shrewdness to select such 
a stopping-place, and whatever provision he might have 


126 


GUY TRESSILIAN’s FATE. 


made to intercept her at larger hotels, had entirely 
overlooked this quiet hostelry. 

It was, in fact, a resort for the refugees of all nations. 
A tall and melancholy Pole, whom his sympathetic fel- 
low-boarders were wont to consider an exiled Polish 
prince, stalked gloomily through the corridors, and sat 
like a death’s head at the dinner-table, the only meal 
which the guests shared together. A Russian boor, loud 
of voice and manner ; a Russian “princess ” with a step 
like a ballet-dancer’s, and a face singularly like that of 
an English adventuress ; a few French bachelors ; a 
few “ exiled ” English people — exiled by reason of 
debts, or residing at this pension on account of impecu- 
niosity, and flattering themselves that they were “ liv- 
ing abroad ” — these with a couple of spinsters, one Irish 
and the other Scotch, and both quite intolerable, and 
the usual number of adventurers, and adventuresses, 
made up the “ society ” of the quiet family hotel. 

And here Olla and Tressilian remained, with their 
attendants, until some twenty-four hours later, when 
they set out for England by way of Calais and Dover. 
They arrived at Calais a little after one in the after- 
noon ; had a pleasant, if rather rough, voyage across 
the Channel, and landed at Dover at half-past three. 

The journey to London through the gray December 
afternoon by the swift express train was duly accom- 
plished. The night had long since fallen, with mist 
and rain and sleet, when, at six o’clock, the travellers 
alighted at the Victoria station in London. 

Where should they go now ? A feeling of utter for- 
lornr css crept over the young pair as they stood upon the 
crowded platform, watching the meetings of friends and 
lovers. One after another of the new arrivals by the 
train entered waiting cabs and were driven to their 


A GIANT SHADOW. 


127 


homes, or to hotels which were but way-houses in their 
journey to pleasant homes in the country. 

But these homeless ones scarcely knew where to go. 
Tressilian’s name and past were a sealed book to him. 
The bustle of the London station was strange to him. 
And he was feverish and tired. To his recent anima- 
tion had succeeded a strange apathy and melancholy. 
Olla feared that he would sink back into his recent im- 
becility, and she was desirous of consulting a surgeon 
in his behalf as early as possible. 

As for herself, the young girl had no friends save the 
Pughs, whom she had sought at Palermo, and failed to 
find. She knew their London address, but she could 
not drive directly to their house with Tressilian and her 
attendants. 

“We must go to a hotel,” she said desperately. “I 
never wanted a home as I want one to-night ! We will 
go to the Victoria Hotel. It is here at the station — 
directly over our heads.” 

Popley took the light luggage in his hands, Olla 
slipped her arm into that of Tressilian and the little 
party made its way through the gloom and sleet into 
the hotel. 


CHAPTER XII. 

A GIANT SHADOW. 

Upon the morning subsequent to Jasper Lowder’s 
dastardly robbery of Sir Arthur Tressilian’s safe, the 
former made his appearance in the breakfast-room at 
the usual hour, a little pale and apprehensive, but as 
carefully attired as usual. 


128 


GUY TRESSILIAN’S FATE. 


Sir Arthur was already in the room, and alone. He 
greeted Lowder gravely, yet pleasantly. Whatever his 
disapointment or distrust of his supposed son, it did 
not affect his manner. At the first glance into the 
Baronet’s face the usurper knew that the previous 
night’s robbery had not yet been discovered. There 
was no glance of suspicion in Sir Arthur’s kindly eyes, 
no shadow of anger or annoyance upon the dark and 
handsome face. 

It was plainly not Sir Arthur Tressilian who had 
been the secret, unseen witness of the robbery. 

“ The discovery of his loss is to come,” thought Jasper 
Lowder. “ I wonder how he will take it. I wish it 
were over.” 

He held out his white and jewelled hand to the Bar- 
onet, who clasped it lightly. The two exchanged greet- 
ings, and at that moment Purmton and his assistants 
entered, bearing the hot-water dishes. 

Sir Arthur looked toward the door rather anxiously 
and said : 

u Blanche is late this morning. Prumton, go up to 
Miss Irby’s room and say to her that breakfast waits.” 

The portly butler hastened on his errand. He pres- 
ently returned, a shadow on his round face, and said : 

Miss Irby is not well this morning. Cressy, her 
maid, says Miss Blanche has a severe headache, and 
begs you to excuse her.” 

The anxious look on Sir Arthur’s face deepened. He 
took his place at the table, however and Lowder also 
seated himself. Sir Arthur waited upon his supposed 
son, and then carved a delicate morsel of broiled bird, 
which he placed upon a hot plate, with a buttered 
roll. 

“ Bring a tray, Purmton,” he said, “ and a cup of cof- 


A GIANT SHADOW. 


129 


fee. You will take these up to Miss Blanche, and tell 
her I hope she will be well by luncheon time.” 

Purmton executed these orders as they were given. 

Sir Arthur and Lowder lingered over the breakfast, 
but both were quiet, saying little. When the meal was 
concluded, the Baronet glanced at his watch, remark- 
ing : 

“ It is half-past eight already, Guy. I am to meet 
Mr. Roy at ten, and before seeing him I want an inter- 
view with my lawyer, who has been investigating the 
title of Roy farm thoroughly. I want you to accom- 
pany me to the lawyer’s. We will go the library 
now, take out our money, and prepare for our busi- 
ness.” 

He led the way to the library, Lowder following, 
his heart beating like a drum. 

On opening the library door, a gust of wind tore it 
from Sir Arthur’s hand, and he saw at a glance, on 
entering the room, that the window was open, thus 
causing that strange, violent draught. 

“ How r careless !” ejaculated Lowder. “ Purmton has 
left the window open all night, and when you had two 
thousand pounds in the house ! You ought to discharge 
him, father.” 

Sir Arthur paid no attention to this exclamation. He 
glanced at the window, then at the safe. 

“ Shut the door, Guy,” he said calmly. 

Lowder did so. 

“When I came into this room at a late hour last 
night,” said the Baronet, “ that window was carefully 
secured. I looked to all the windows and doors myself. 
Purmton is not to blame. I must see if my money is 
safe.” 

He felt in his pocket for the key. 


130 


GUY TRESSILIAN S FATE. 


“ It is gone !*' he exclaimed. “ I am sure I put the 
key in my pocket last night, as usual — ” 

“ There it is on the floor !” exclaimed Lowder, point- 
ing it out. “ You must have dropped it last night at 
the moment you thought you were putting it in your 
pocket. The safe does not seem to have been disturbed, 
judging by the locked door. Perhaps, after all, the 
housemaid has been in here this morning and opened 
the window to air the room.” 

The Baronet did not reply. He went to the safe, 
unlocked it, and threw open one of its massive doors. 

At the first glance, he started back. 

“ The money is gone !” he ejaculated. 

Lowder sprang to the Baronet’s side. 

“ Impossible !” he cried. 

“ You see for yourself !” said Sir Arthur. “ The 
money has been stolen !” 

Lowder pretended to search the safe, and said at 
length, as if reluctantly : 

“ It is clear that there is no money here. Somebody 
must have stolen it. Perhaps Paxter was tracked from 
Gloucester by some professional burglar- — ” 

“ How should a professional burglar know just where 
to look for it ?” interrupted the Baronet. “ I know that 
key was in my pocket when I went to bed. It must 
have been taken out of my waistcoat pocket after 
I slept. It is strange I did not awaken if a burglar 
entered my room !” 

He went to the window, and carefully examined it. 
He lowered himself from it, and looked closely at the 
turf beneath. Then he returned to the library, and 
looked at Lowder with a pale face, and anxious, troubled 
eyes. 

“ The window is opened on the inner side,” he said. 
“ No glass is broken. There has been no violent entry 


A GIANT SHADOW. 


131 


into the house. Evidently some person got out of this 
window last night — but just as evidently he got in 
again !” 

Lowder started, his face flushing hotly. 

“ What makes you think so ?” he stammered. 

“ The double track is plainly visible. I see that he 
came and went. Unless he had a confederate in the 
house to admit him, he did not enter at this window, 
since it was fastened on the inside. I will see if all the 
doors and windows elsewhere were found as usual this 
morning.” 

He rang the bell, and when a servant appeared, 
ordered Purmton to be sent to him. 

The butler made his appearance. 

“ Come in and shut the door, Purmton,” said Sir 
Arthur. “ Who opened the house this morning ?” 

“ I did, Sir Arthur, as usual,” responded the butler, 
glancing from the calm face of his employer to the 
excited one of Lowder. “ I closed the house last night 
and opened it this morning.” 

Did you find any doors or windows open ?” de- 
manded the Baronet. 

“ No, sir. How could they be ? Why, I fastened 
them all the last thing before I went to bed last night, 
as I just said, Sir Arthur.” 

“ Has the housemaid — it’s an unnecessary question, 
however — been in the room this morning ?” 

“ No, Sir Arthur.” 

“ I have been robbed, Purmton,” declared the Bar- 
onet, still calmly. “ I had two thousand pounds in gold 
in that safe last night when I went to bed and the key 
was in my pocket. This morning I find the key on the 
floor here, that window yonder open, and my money 
stolen !” 

He looked at the old man keenly, as if he would read 


132 


GUY TRESSILIAn’s FATE. 


his soul. Purmton, flushed and excited, was full of 
alarm and protestations and wonderings, and his grief 
at his master’s loss, and his innocence of any previous 
knowledge of it, were plainly apparent to Sir Arthur. 

“ Who could have been so mean and base ?” cried 
the old butler. “ It must have been some burglar — ” 

“It was not the act of a burglar,” said Sir Arthur 
decidedly. “ You found the doors and windows closed 
this morning, and secured. Some one went out at this 
window, opening it from the inside ; but that person 
returned to the house, leaving the window open to sug- 
gest burglars. I do not need to be a skilled detective to 
come to my present conclusion. The robber was one 
of my own household !” 

“ Oh, no, Sir Arthur,” pleaded Purmton, tears of dis- 
tress in his eyes. “ There is not one in the house 
capable of such an act !” 

“ The facts speak for themselves — don’t they ?” asked 
Lowder sharply. 

Purmton wrung his hands. 

“ Oh, Sir Arthur,” he cried, “ have up all the servants 
in the great hall, and question them. They have all 
lived with you years and years. There is not a kinder 
master in all the shire, and the servants love you too 
well to wrong you by a pin’s value !” 

Sir Arthur seemed touched by the butler’s appeal ; 
but he shook his head, as he said sternly : 

“My dear old Purmton, I have trusted my servants 
fully and implicitly. I should not know which to accuse 
in a case like this. But I shall not be in too great haste 
to accuse any one. I will not insult my honest servants 
by suspecting them of a heinous crime. I shall investi- 
gate this matter closely, and in the meantime I desire 
you to keep silence in regard to it. I may find it neces- 
sary to send for a detective from Scotland Yard. I do 


A GIANT SHADOW. 


133 


not intend to submit to my loss without an effort to 
regain the money, and discover the daring thief who 
enters my chamber boldly in the dead of night, and 
who steals my substance ; but until I give you liberty 
to speak, I command your silence !” 

“ I will be as silent as the grave, Sir Arthur. But 
you — you have no suspicions — ” 

“ Not as yet,” said Sir Arthur, somewhat bitterly. 
“ All that is to come. You may go now, Purmton. And 
remember to keep silence !” 

The butler withdrew with bowed head and troubled 
visage. 

“ How agitated the old fellow .seemed when you 
announced your loss, father !” observed Lowder insid- 
iously, desirous at all events of averting suspicion from 
himself. “ He grew as pale as death, and then flushed 
up strangely — ” 

“ Hush, Guy ! I would stake my life on Purmton ’s 
honesty. He has lived with me five-and-twenty years. 
I have tried him in a hundred ways, and know him to 
be integrity itself.” 

Lowder looked abashed. 

“There — there is Mrs. Goss,” he suggested. 

“ Can you direct suspicion upon the motherly old 
housekeeper who loves you as if you were her own 
son ?” demanded the Baronet, in surprise and annoy- 
ance. “ Guy, I thought you appreciated the honor and 
truth of that simple, unworldly soul. She rob me ! I 
would sooner believe that any other did it.” 

“ I only mentioned her name because it occurred to 
me first,” stammered the impostor. “ Of course, I knew 
her incapable of such a — a crime. But there are the 
servants.” 

“ They did not know I had money in the house. And 
neither did Mrs. Goss.” 


134 


GUY TKESSILIAN’S FATE. 


“ Paxter knew it,” said Lowder. “ I have a high 
opinion of Paxter, but he has a large family, and lives 
ambitiously, and the temptation may have overcome 
him. He knows the house. He knows where you keep 
the safe key. He brought the money from Gloucester, 
and was the only one who saw you deposit it in the safe. 
He might have returned in the evening, concealed him- 
self in the house, and at a later hour effected the robbery.” 

“ Impossible ! He who went out of that window 
returned by it.” 

“ Paxter might have been artful enough to come back 
to the window.” 

Sir Arthur was cruelly agitated. He refused to 
suspect Paxter, his faithful old steward, of ingratitude 
and treachery so foul. 

“ I must think the matter over,” he said. “ I think I 
shall have to send for a detective. At present my mind 
is in a fog. You had better go over to Ardleigh, Guy, 
and tell the lawyer that I cannot carryout that transac- 
tion to-day. You may explain the matter to him, 
under promise of secrecy. In the meantime I will 
study this case.” 

Glad to escape from the Baronet’s presence, Lowder 
withdrew to order his horse, and to attire himself for 
his ride. 

Some twenty minutes later he rode away from the 
Court upon his errand. 

He had scarcely vanished beyond the lodge gates, 
and Sir Arthur was in the midst of his unpleasant 
“ brown study,” when a timid knock was heard at the 
library door, and Cressy, Blanche’s maid, entered the 
apartment. 

“ If you please, Sir Arthur,” she said, timidly, “ Miss 
Blanche would like to see you in her room immediate.” 

Sir Arthur’s loss was forgotten on the instant. 


A GIANT SHADOW. 


135 


“Is — is she ill ?” he demanded, turning pale. 

“No, Sir Arthur. She has something important to 
say to you, she told me to say. She is not well, but she 
isn’t downright ill.” 

“ I will go to her at once,” declared the Baronet. 

Cressy withdrew, and Sir Arthur hurriedly locked his 
safe and quitted the library, ascending to Blanche’s 
room. 

The apartments of the young heiress comprised a 
handsome suite upon the second floor, overlooking the 
lawn and the river. Sir Arthur knocked at the sitting- 
room door, and Blanche’s voice, low and sweet, and so 
sad that it thrilled him strangely, bade him enter. 

He opened the door and went in. 

The room which he had thus entered was large and 
square, one of the brightest, warmest, sunniest sitting- 
rooms to be found anywhere in home-loving England. 
A fire, indispensable to winter comfort, glowed genially 
in the grate. A jardiniere of plants ornamented one 
broad window-shelf. A swinging shelf of choice books, 
musical instruments, a pretty basket of embroidery, 
were visible in various parts of the room. It seemed 
by far lighter and brighter in this pretty room than 
outside where the day was cold and dismal. 

Upon a silken lounge near the fire, Blanche was half 
reclining. She arose at her guardian’s entrance, and 
came forward to meet him with trembling steps. She 
looked pale and ill. Her golden hair streamed in a 
wild confusion over her white dressing-gown ; the blue 
veins seemed starting from her temples ; and her gray 
eyes were strangely large in size, and strangely piteous 
in their expression. 

Sir Arthur was startled — alarmed — by her appear- 
ance. 

“Why, Blanche,” he cried, taking her hand, “you are 


136 


GUY TRESSILIAN’S FATE. 


ill ! Your hand is like fire ! I must send at once for the 
doctor !” 

“ No, Guardy, no !” exclaimed Blanche, in a voice 
sadly unlike her usual chirping, merry tones. “ I am 
not ill in body. It is my mind.” 

“ Your mind !” .said Sir Arthur, perplexed. “ Do you 
mean that you are in trouble ?” 

The young girl nodded gravely. She could not speak. 

“ What trouble can affect you thus, my little Blanche ?” 
demanded the Baronet, drawing her to a seat beside 
himself upon the lounge. “ Your appearance frightens 
me. Tell me what has happened to grieve you. Tell 
me as if I were your father, in whose place I stand to 
you to-day.” 

Blanche wrung her hands piteously. 

“ Oh, Guardy,” she said, in a choking voice, “ How 
can I tell you ? I did not think it would be so hard. I 
cannot — I cannot !” 

Sir Arthur’s pale face grew stern from excess of emo- 
tion. He put one arm gently around the girl’s slender 
waist. With the other hand under her quivering chin, 
he as gently compelled her to uplift her wan, woeful, 
piteous face, with its brightness all dimmed, its exquisite 
beauty like that of some colorless marble statue. 

“Now tell me, little Blanche,” he said, in a tone of 
gentle firmness and tender command. “ You are wring- 
ing my heart — ” 

“ I shall have to wring it worse if I tell you,” Blanche 
sobbed. “ Oh, Guardy ! It is about — about Guy !” 

“ Well, my child, what is it that is so terrible about 
Guy ?” 

He waited with seeming calmness, yet with anxious 
intentness, for her reply. What terrible thing had she 
to tell him ? 


A GIANT SHADOW. 


137 


For a few moments a dead silence reigned between 
them — a silence broken only by Blanche’s sobs. 

It seemed as if Blanche would have retracted at that 
last minute all she had said, and withheld from her 
guardian that which she had called him to her chamber 
to hear. 

She wrung her hands anew, weeping pitifully. 

“ Oh, I cannot ! I cannot !” she moaned. “ You will 
hate me as the bearer of such ill tidings. I cannot tell 
you !” 

A sudden flush leaped to Sir Arthur’s cheeks. A sud- 
den radiance glowed in his eyes. 

“ Is it — is it that you have ceased to love him ?” he 
asked tremulously. 

A like flush stained the pure whiteness of Blanche’s 
cheeks. She drew a quick, gasping breath. A sudden 
confusion seized upon her. 

“ Oh, no, no !” she whispered, lowly and hesitatingly, 
as if she dared not keep silence. 

“ You love him, then? You love him still ?” 

The girl did not answer, but drooped her head slowly. 
Sir Arthur read in that action a shy assent to his 
question. The color faded from his face. For a few 
moments he was deathly still. Then he said, in a 
grave, pained voice : 

“Speak, Blanche. You love Guy still. What is it, 
then, affects you so ? Tell me at once !” 

He waited for her to speak, in a gently compelling 
silence. 

Blanche forced herself to be calm. 

“ I will tell you, Sir Arthur — even if you hate me for 
it !” she murmured brokenly. “ I was sleepless last 
night. I lay awake for hours restless and nervous — 
thinking of that money in the library safe. And I 


138 


GUY TRESSILIAn’s FATE. 


was afraid of burglars. At last — it must have been 
some time after midnight — I heard a step in the hall — ” 

“ Ah !” 

■“ I — I thought it might be a burglar. I was afraid 
they would murder you for the safe key. And I sprang 
up and threw on my dressing-gown, and hurried into 
the hall, intending to go to your room to waken you. 
I had hardly got out into the hall when I heard some 
one coming out of your room. I had only time to crouch 
down in the niche behind the bronze Crusader near my 
door when a man came out from your room. He had 
the key of the safe in his hand." 

Sir Arthur looked at Blanche with burning eyes. 

The girl continued brokenly : 

“ He — .the man sat down in a hall chair for a little 
while. I crouched in the dark niche. Presently he 
went into Guy’s room and came out with a light. He 
went down stairs and into the library. And I — I crept 
after him, thinking he might be walking in his sleep. 
But he was broad awake. He went up to the safe 
and opened it. I peered in at him through a crevice at 
the door. He took out the bag of gold, locked the safe, 
and tossed the key on the floor. Then he opened the 
window, and crept out on the terrace with his stolen 
money !” 

“ You saw his face ?” demanded the Baronet with a 
strange calmness, 

“Yes, Sir Arthur." 

“ And you knew this man ?" 

“ Yes, Sir Arthur. Oh, I knew him !" 

“ Who was he ? Who was this midnight robber ?" 

There was a brief, terrible silence. Then the girl 
said, in a piteous, broken voice : 

“ He — he was Guy." 


CHAPTER XIII. 



AN UNSEEN WITNESS. 

The revelation of Blanche — that Lowder was the 
midnight thief who had robbed Sir Arthur Tressilian — 
proved, as the young girl had feared, a cruel shock to 
the Baronet. Notwithstanding Blanche’s agitation and 
distress, and her reluctance to speak, Sir Arthur had not 
suspected the actual truth. 

Now he averted his face from her, covering it with 
his hands. 

The girl crept near to him, clinging to his hands in 
a mute sympathy, but she did not speak. 

There was a little silence between the pair, but pres- 
ently Sir Arthur said, in a broken voice : 

“ Oh, my boy ! My son ! My son ! I have thought 
him the soul of honor. How I have loved him ! I 
would have died for him ! And what is he ? A liar ! 
a thief !” 

“ Oh, Guardy ?” cried the young girl shuddering. 

Sir Arthur uncovered his face and looked at his 
ward. His grandly handsome countenance was pale 
and very stern. In his dark eyes appeared an expres- 
sion of desolation and anguish. 

“ My poor little Blanche !” he said, laying his hand 
caressingly upon her golden tresses. “And you love 
him still ? It is a strange thing — a woman’s love sur- 
viving respect, esteem, everything !” 


[i39] 


140 


GUY TRESSILIAN’S FATE. 


Blanche made a little gesture of dissent, but her 
guardian did not notice it. Had he read her heart 
aright, he would have seen that her grief was all for 
him, and not for her own disappointmet. Had he 
known her better, he would have comprehended that 
Blanche could never love one whom she had ceased to 
respect. 

“ This is as hard for you as for me, Blanche,” con- 
tinued her guardian, in a sad and troubled voice, pitying 
the young girl’s supposed anguish even in his own 
great sorrow. “ Guy is not what he w T as. He had a 
grand and noble nature, whose very backbone was a 
love of truth. He hated a lie, whether of word or deed. 
Until his recent return from abroad, I would have staked 
my life upon his honor and truthfulness.” 

Blanche did not answer, but softly stroked the hand 
she held. 

“ Had another than you seen him perpetrate this rob- 
bery, Blanche,” said her guardian slowly, “ I should 
refuse it credence. And yet — and yet — I have found 
him untruthful, secretive, and strange. There was 
something odd in that affair of the foreigner yesterday. 
My son is a sealed book to me. He was with me in the 
library this morning when I discovered my loss. And 
he took pains to direct my suspicions against Purmton 
and Paxter, the most faithful servitors any man ever 
had. He might have spared himself this baseness of 
accusing the innocent !” 

“What! he would have accused them of his own 
crime ?” exclaimed Blanche, .horrified at such a depth of 
baseness in the lover whom she had so lately deemed 
noble and good. “ Oh, Sir Arthur !” 

“ I should not have told you this, Blanche. You had 
enough to bear before,” said the Baronet compassion- 
ately. “ The money was intended for him in another 


AN UNSEEN WITNESS. 


141 


shape. What could have tempted him to the robbery ? 
What immediate and pressing need had he of two thous- 
and pounds ? And if he needed money, why did he not 
apply to me for it ? Clearly he dreaded lest I should 
ask him why he wanted it.” 

Blanche was a dainty, childlike little creature in 
appearance, but under her golden tresses was hidden a 
clear, strong, womanly intellect. She pondered Sir 
Arthur’s questions for several minutes, and then said : 

“ Did you not notice yesterday, Sir Arthur, that Guy 
seemed shocked, even terrified, on receiving that note 
from the foreigner, and which he said was a begging 
letter ? Perhaps he had known the foreigner before. 
Perhaps the letter was a demand for money.” 

“ Blanche, I believe you are right !” cried Sir Arthur, 
in a quick, startled voice. “ But how could he owe the 
fellow so large a sum ?” 

“ He may not have owed it all, Sir Arthur, but may 
have taken all to make the robbery seem the act of a 
burglar. No burglar, you know, would count out 
a certain sum and leave the rest. And as to owing him 
money,” added Blanche, gently, “ it might have been 
for a gaming debt.” 

“ It only needs that supposition resolved into certainty 
to fill my cup of humiliation and sorrow to the brim. A 
gambler ! A liar ! A thief ! And he is my son !” 

Sir Arthur put from him the slender, clinging arms, 
and paced the floor with a quick, impatient tread. 

“ Blanche,” he exclaimed, “ I must know the truth — 
the whole truth— at once ! I am going to send over to 
Ardleigh to see if the foreigner stopped there over 
night. If he did, our worst fears will receive confirma- 
tion. I shall quietly devote myself to studying out this 
matter. I do not wish Guy to know that I suspect him 
of the robbery. Therefore come down to luncheon 


GUY TRESSILIAN S FATE. 


142 

and dinner as usual, if you are able. I will keep you 
informed of my discoveries, if I make any.” 

He approached her, and kissed her forehead. Then 
he went out hastily, returning to the library. 

After a brief self-commuqion, and as soon as he had 
regained an outward calmness, Sir Arthur rang his bell. 
On the appearance of a servant, the Baronet sent for 
Purmton. 

When the butler entered the room, in obedience to 
the summons, the Baronet said quietly : 

“ Purmton, I have formed a theory in regard to last 
night’s robbery, and I shall need your assistance. Did 
you see an odd-looking foreigner about the grounds 
yesterday ?” 

“ A short, swarthy fellow, with little black eyes, and 
gold rings in his ears ?” asked the butler eagerly. “ I 
saw such a man in the garden yesterday talking to old 
Luke. He afterward brought a letter for Mr. Guy. 
He was an ill -looking fellow, Sir Arthur, and old Luke, 
when he came into the servant’s hall to warm himself, 
said that the man asked many questions about the fam- 
ily, and wanted a place. Do you suspect the foreign 
man, Sir Arthur ?” 

“ I suspect that he had something to do with the rob- 
bery, Purmton,” replied the Baronet. “ 1 want particu- 
larly to know if he slept at Ardleigh. I desire you to go 
over to the village at once, and make cautious inquiries 
in regard to him. And, Purmton, I desire you to be very 
secret and guarded. I do not wish any one— not even 
Mr. Guy — to know what direction my suspicions are 
taking.” 

“Very well, Sir Arthur,” said the butler, a little mys- 
tified, yet persuaded that his employer was quite right 
in being so cautious. “ I will obey you. And I will set 
out for Ardleigh directly.” 


AN UNSEEN WITNESS. 


143 


After a few further directions from the Baronet, the 
butler withdrew. A few minutes later, Sir Arthur saw 
him riding down the avenue upon a stout little cob. 

Purmton rode to Ardleigh, and dismounted within the 
small paved court of the Tressilian Arms. Giving his 
cob into the care of a stable lad, he lounged into the tap- 
room of the inn, pulled off his heavy gloves, and stood 
with his back to the fire, his hands under his coat tails. 

As the hour was early — it was not yet ten o’clock — 
the tap-room had no occupant save the jolly landlord, 
whose ruddy, hanging cheeks and paunchy figure were 
an excellent advertisement of the cheer afforded at the 
Tressilian Arms to fortunate travellers. 

“A fine morning, Mr. Purmton,” said the landlord 
respectfully, for the- butler of Tressilian Court was a 
great personage at Ardleigh. “ A little cold, to be sure, 
and a little dark and dull, but what does one expect at 
this season ? Not summer weather surely. What will 
you have, Mr. Purmton ? A pint of porter ?” 

“A pot of half-and-half,” answered Purmton. 

The beverage thus demanded was speedily prepared. 
Purmton sipped it, and the landlord of the Tressilian 
Arms closed the inn door, stirred his fire, and prepared 
himself for a gossipping chat about Tressilian Court, 
the great place of the neighborhood. 

“ Sir Arthur well ?” he inquired. 

“Very well indeed.” 

“ They say that Mr. Guy and Miss Blanche are going 
to make a match,” observed the landlord. “ I saw Mr. 
Guy riding past an hour or so ago. He went to the 
lawyer’s office. They can’t be drawing up the marriage 
settlements yet, Mr. Purmton ?” 

“Oh, no, not yet, Briggs,” said Purmton. “The 
wedding won’t come off till February. There ’ll be 
gay doings at the Court then. Sir Arthur means to 


1U 


GUY TRESSILIAN S FATE. 


make a festival for the villagers, tenants and all ; 
though to be sure, the villagers are mostly Sir Arthur’s 
tenants.’’ 

The jolly, round landlord rubbed his hands delight- 
edly. 

“ I am glad to hear it,” he exclaimed. “ Mr. Guy will 
'have a lovely and beautiful bride — none lovelier or pret- 
tier in the shire.” 

“ How’s trade ?” asked Purmton, having beaten about 
the bush sufficiently, and coming gradually to the point 
of his visit. “ Many strangers at the inn ?” 

“ Not one, Mr. Purmton. People stay at home mostly 
at Christmas time, and we are drawing near the holi- 
days. Business is a little dull. We haven’t had a 
stranger to stop over night this week, except a com- 
mercial traveller from Gloucester, and — yes — a bagman 
bound up Chester way.” 

The butler had gained the information he wanted, 
and declared he must go. And having ordered a supply 
of ale for the servants’ hall at the Court, he strolled out 
into the quiet, narrow street. 

“ The foreign fellow may have gone to the Harvest 
Home,” he thought. “ Poor people, tramps, and the 
like, mostly go to the Harvest Home.” 

He walked leisurely down the narrow street until he 
came to the small inn known as the Harvest Home. He 
had the intention of entering its tap-room, but changed 
his mind as he beheld, leaning carelessly against the 
glazed door, a short, black pipe in his mouth, the very 
man of whose whereabout he was seeking information, 
Jacopo Palestro ! 

“Yes, that’s the fellow, sure enough,” thought the 
butler, with a keen, though furtive glance at the ex- 
scrivener. “ He has gold ear-rings, a swarthy skin, 
small black eyes. He has stayed at the Harvest Home 


AN UNSEEN WITNESS. 


145 


since yesterday. No doubt he is the burglar, or one of 
the burglars, who robbed Sir Arthur last night.” 

He walked on slowly, making an errand into a cob- 
bler’s shop a few doors below. And presently he 
repassed the Harvest Home, a parcel in his hand, and a 
most unconcerned expression on his countenance. 

He returned to the Tressilian Arms, mounted his 
horse, and rode back to the Court. 

Sir Arthur was .still in his library when Purmton 
entered the room. The butler made his report. The 
Baronet did not seem at all surprised to learn that Pal- 
estro was still at Araleigh. 

“ His presence at the village confirms my theory,” 
said Sir Arthur wearily. “ Keep a still tongue, Purm- 
ton. I want nothing said concerning my loss.” 

He dismissed his servitor, and the mask of calmness 
fell from his worn and troubled face when he found 
himself again alone. 

“ Blanche was right,” he said to himself. “ Guy 
must owe this foreigner a gaming debt. He cannot 
owe him so large a sum on any legitimate debt. The 
man followed him to England, urging his claims to be 
paid. Guy dared not resist his demands, knowing my 
horror of the vice of gaming, and fearing the facts 
might come to my hearing. So to escape my just 
anger, he has plunged into a crime ! What am I to do 
in these premises ?” 

The question was full of difficulties. 

“ I might call Guy here on his return, and tell him 
what Blanche has told me,” he thought. “But would 
that be the wisest course ? The truth is, my son is 
daily becoming a mystery to me. I think 1 will let this 
matter run its course, and watch him. It is quite clear 
to me that he committed the robbery unaided. Blanche 
heard him return to his room a few minutes after his 


146 


GUY TKESSIUIAN’S FATE. 


egress by the library window. That fact, coupled with 
the Italian’s continued presence at Ardleigh, clearly 
proves that he has not yet paid the foreigner the 
money. He has probably concealed it in the park, and 
will pay it to-night. Guy would not visit the ill-looking 
Italian at the Harvest Home. They will meet in the 
park to-night. Their meeting shall have a witness. 
My duty to Blanche and myself demand that I shall 
know fully the character of my son who is to be her 
husband.” 

Sir Arthur had scarcely arrived at this resolution, 
when Lowder was heard cantering up the drive. A 
little later he entered the library, flushed with exercise 
and the chill air. His manner was jaunty and self-pos- 
sessed. 

“ I suppose you haven’t found any clue to the robber 
yet, father ?” he said, going up to the grate and warm- 
ing his hands. “Have you telegraphed to Scotland 
Yard for a detective ?” 

“ No, Guy. I have decided not to do so.” 

A look of relief not unmarked by the Baronet, passed 
over Lowder’s face. He laughed gayly. 

“ Then you have given it up as lost indeed ?” he ques- 
tioned. “You have concluded to pocket the loss, eh ? 
Perhaps you are wise. The person who stole the 
money would take every precaution to hide it. And a 
deed committed in the dead of night must necessarily 
have been without a witness.” 

“ There was one Witness,” said Sir Arthur, solemnly. 
“The thief could not evade the gaze of the All-seeing 
Eye !” 

Lowder shifted his position uneasily, and laughed 
again, this time more constrainedly. 

“ Oh, of course,” he said. “ But about your business, 
father. I went over to Ardleigh, found the lawyer’s 


AN UNSEEN WITNESS. 


147 


office, and executed your errand. I was there when 
Mr. Roy came in. The lawyer, to whom I had com- 
municated the fact of the robbery, made some excuses 
in your behalf to account for your failure to meet your 
engagement with Roy. The farmer was in a huff at 
once, and, in a high and mighty tone, said he had re- 
ceived another offer for his farm quite as good as yours, 
and should sell at once to the new applicant. And with 
that he went out, paying no heed to the remonstrances 
of the lawyer or myself.” 

“ It was as well,” said the Baronet quietly. “ I had 
decided, while you were absent, that I would not buy 
the farm.” 

Lowder shot a quick, keen glance at the Baronet. 

“ Why,” he exclaimed, in surprise, “ your loss of two 
thousand pounds has not crippled you, I hope ?” 

Sir Arthur’s face flushed with a sense of annoyance, 
as he answered : 

“ No ; my resources are not crippled by this loss, 
Guy, but I have relinquished the idea of buying the 
Roy farm. Gildethorpe is a pretty little property in 
itself, and yields a neat income.” 

“ Well, one need not sigh for the Roy farm who is to 
inherit Tressilian Court,” said Lowder, smiling com- 
placently. “ The future owner of this grand estate 
with its kingly revenues need not sigh for a single farm. 
And so I told the lawyer, who quite agreed with me.” 

The ill- taste of Lowder, in thus calculating upon the 
benefits he should derive from the demise of the Bar- 
onet, quite inspired the latter with a sense of disgust. 
He moved impatiently in his chair, and sharp words of 
reproof and accusation trembled on his tongue. 

Controlling himself, however, he turned to his desk, 
and busied himself in glancing over its contents. Low- 
der, noticing his uncommunicativeness, and ascribing it 


148 


GUY TKESSILIAn’s FATE. 


to chagrin at his loss, soon excused himself, and went 
to his room. 

The family met at the luncheon table, as usual. 
Blanche looked wearied and wan, but her beauty was 
undimmed, and Lowder made her a graceful compli- 
ment upon it. Sir Arthur was very grave, but Lowder, 
suspecting nothing of the undercurrent that threatened 
to swamp him, was smiling and pleasant, full of stories 
and reminiscences, that at another time would have 
delighted his auditors. 

Soon after the luncheon, the Egerton family called, 
and other visitors arrived after their departure. The 
afternoon thus passed without the constraint Blanche 
had feared. About five o’clock the young girl — the 
visitors having all departed — went up to her room to 
dress, and did not make her reappearance until sum- 
moned to dinner. 

She entered the dining-room, where Sir Arthur and 
Lowder awaited her, attired in a robe of pale blue silk, 
with filmy laces, and sapphire jewels contrasting finely 
with the purity and delicacy of her complexion. She 
was unusually quiet and thoughtful, but the slight 
shadow did not sit ill upon a brow as sunny as hers. 
She took her seat at the table, and exerted herself to 
cheer her guardian, whose gloom was deepening with 
every moment. The high-minded, great-souled Baronet 
could have borne any grief better than this discovery 
of the utter unworthiness of the man he believed to be 
his son. 

After dinner, Sir Arthur gave his arm to Blanche and 
conducted her to the drawing-room. The evening 
passed much as usual, save that the Baronet seemed 
absorbed in his copy of the London Times , and scarcely 
looked up from it. Blanche played upon the piano, and 
sang, Lowder accompanying her with his voice. When 


AN UNSEEN WITNESS. 


149 


tired of music, Lowder conducted the girl to an easy- 
chair under the great chandelier, and sat upon a low 
hassock at her feet, and read Tennyson to her in a ten- 
der voice, and with glances warm with love and admir- 
ation. 

And the girl listened and smiled, while her heart 
grew sick wi f hin her. 

How very far from her glorious ideal hero was this 
double-dealer, this falsifier, this traitor to his father, 
this midnight robber ! There was a revulsion going on 
in her soul of which no one, not even herself, dreamed. 

At nine o’clock, as was the custom at the Court, tea 
was brought in upon a tray. At ten o’clock, Blanche 
retired for the night. 

Sir Arthur and Lowder were thus left together. 
Evidently the latter had no fancy for a tete-h-tete with 
the gloomy, sad-eyed Baronet, and arose, yawning. 

“ I believe I am sleepy,” he observed, “ and I will go 
to bed. Good-night, father.” 

He went out, ascending the stairs to his own room. 
Sir Arthur, going into the hall, heard him enter his 
chamber and double lock his door. 

“ That is only a ruse,” he thought. “ I believe he 
means to meet that foreigner in the park. I will meet 
his stratagem with stratagem.” 

He covered the drawing-room fire, having first raked 
the coals apart ; then extinguished the lights and secured 
the doors. Then he went up to his own room. A min- 
iate later he glided down the stairs again. His great- 
coat and seal -skin cap hung upon the branching antlers. 
He donned them, muffling himself thoroughly, and 
made his way out by a side door upon the lawn. 

The night was cold and gloomy. A few stars were 
shining, but their splendor was dulled. A chill wind 
swept up from the river. But Sir Arthur had no thought 


150 


GUY TRESSILIAn’s FATE. 


of Nature in this hour of trouble and anxiety. He 
crossed the lawn hurriedly, keeping in the deeper 
shadows of the trees, and entered the park. 

Here, in a spot from which he could command a view 
of the eastern fagade of the Court, he waited, with feel- 
ings only a father similarly situated can know. 

The minutes passed. The clock in the old clock 
tower, one of the features of Tressilian Court, struck 
the half hour after ten. The sound was yet echoing 
upon the wintry night air, when the side door under a 
quaint carved porch — the same door by which Sir 
Arthur had left the court — slowly opened, and a muffled 
figure came out of the dwelling. 

Sir Arthur, bending forward and watching eagerly, 
recognized this figure as that of his supposed son. 

“ My theory is being confirmed,” he murmured. “ Oh 
Guy ! my son !” 

Unconscious of this anguished scrutiny, Lowder 
crossed the lawn fleetly, and approached the park. 

As he came near, a figure started out to meet him — 
the figure of Palestro. 

“You are in good time, Milord, Sir Tresolino !” Sir 
Arthur heard the Italian say, in a mocking voice. “ Ah, 
you did not dare defy Palestro !” 

“ Back there !” commanded Lowder, in suppressed 
tones. “ Would you be seen from the Court ? Do you 
want to ruin everything? Yes, I am here, Palestro. 
And I have the two thousand pounds you demand, all 
ready for you !” 

As he spoke, the usurper took the arm of the Italian, 
and the two men moved through the shadows toward 
the very tree behind which the Baronet was hiding. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

STILL ON THE WING. 

Olla Rymple, Guy Tressilian and the Popleys, on 
their arrival at the Victoria Hotel, to which they made 
their way on their arrival at the Victoria station in Lon- 
don, were shown up to pleasant rooms upon the third 
floor, and opening off the same corridor. 

The little party separated, retiring to their several 
rooms, and all were soon asleep, At eight o’clock on 
the following morning, Guy Tressilian found his way to 
the private sitting-room of Olla, where his young pro- 
tectress was awaiting him. 

She came forward to greet him, extending both her 
hands. Guy was looking wan, feverish and nearly 
exhausted. It was plainly apparent that something 
must be done for him without delay. 

“You need rest, Jasper,” exclaimed Olla anxiously. 

“ I need a physician or surgeon more still,” returned 
Tressilian, putting his hand to his head. “ My wound 
pains me. I feel quite ill, Olla. Pray Heaven I am 
not going to be ill in a London hotel. Every noise in 

P5ij 


152 


GUY TRESSILIAN S FATE, 


the halls jars upon my sensitive nerves. The sound of 
the street cabs almost maddens me." 

“ He should be got away from London at once,” 
declared Mrs. Popley. “ Or at least into a private 
house.’’ 

Olla conducted Tressilian to a couch, and gently com- 
pelled him to recline upon it. She had ordered break- 
fast, and now sat down to write a note to her friends 
the Pughs at their town address. She detailed the 
friendlessness of her position, her pressing need of aid 
for Tressilian, and dispatched the missive at once by 
Popley, who had already breakfasted. 

He returned soon after Olla had finished her break- 
fast, Tressilian declining food. 

“Well ?” cried the young girl, turning an anxious face 
upon her faithful servant. 

Popley replied by returning the note she had given 
him for delivery, and said : 

“ The Pughs are not in town, Miss Olla. They have 
gone up into Yorkshire to spend the Christmas holidays 
their housekeeper said. They will not return until the 
middle of January.” 

A look of absolute despair for a moment convulsed 
Olla’s bright face. 

“ Gone !” she exclaimed, tossing the note upon the 
grate. “ What am I to do ? I have not another 
friend in London. I don’t know a person in all Eng- 
land upon whose friendship I can confidently rely in 
this hour of need. I led such a secluded life in Berks 
with my guardian, that I made no intimate friends. 
This is the darkest hour of my life !” 

“ Don’t say so, Miss Olla,” pleaded Popley. “ Or, if 
you do, remember that the darkest hour comes just 
before the dawn, as the old saying goes.” 

“ Oh, if the dawn would only break now !” and the 


STILL ON THE WING. 


153 


girl’s passionate young voice trembled. “ He ill in a 
London hotel,” and she pointed at poor Tressilian, who 
lay back on his lounge with shut eyes, “and I liable 
to be captured at any moment as a runaway ward ! To 
whom can I appeal against Mr. Gower ? I am alone, 
friendless, helpless ! I don’t know to whom to apply 
for help. And if Mr. Gower were to capture me 
he would take me away, and Jasper would be sent to a 
hospital. Oh, I cannot — cannot bear it !” 

“ My poor Miss Olla,” said Mrs. Popley, in her moth- 
erly voice, “ you are indeed in a great strait. It is plain 
that Mr. Lowder must be- taken out of this noise as 
speedily as possible. It is equally plain that you must 
have a quiet hiding-place, until you can communicate 
with the Pughs. Why should you not go to Bleak Top, up 
in Northumberland ? It is hidden among the Cheviot 
Hills, is lonely, and belongs to you. It is a mere shoot- 
ing-box and the small estate attached to it is a mere 
pasturage for sheep. It is a property so unproductive 
that Mr. Gower has never spoken of it. I dare say he 
has forgotten that such a place exists !” 

“ He may not even know that I own it,” said Olla, 
her dark, small face lighting up with a bright glow. 
“He hasn’t the care of my property. We will go to 
Bleak Top, nurse. That is settled. And now. Popley, 
I want you to find me one of the best surgeons in Lon- 
don. One of the best is Sir Windham Winn. Go for 
him, Popley, and if he is in town, have him return with 
you. Represent the case as requiring immediate atten- 
tion.” 

Popley departed on his errand, and Olla returned to 
Tressilian’s side. He opened his eyes at her approach, 
and smiled gently, and held out his hand to her. 

“ Do you feel worse, Jasper ?” the girl asked. 

“A little,” Tressilian answered, in a low, faint voice. 


154 


GUT TRESSILIAN'S FATE. 


“ My wound pains me so. And the noise — ah, the noise 
grates upon my brain ! It is terrible !” 

“ You shall not bear it long, Jasper,” said Olla, repres- 
sing her tears bravely. “ Keep up your courage,.! am 
going to take you up into the north, into the quiet, cool 
country. You will get well there, Jasper. I have 
sent for the great surgeon, Sir Windham Winn. He 
will cure you, only do not give way now, at the very 
last.” 

Tressilian pressed the small warm hand in his, and 
again closed his eyes. 

An hour passed thus. A second hour followed. The 
time passed slowly to impatient little Olla, although she 
studied the fair, handsome face of her charge, feature 
by feature, and felt his pulse, and listened now and 
then uneasily to his breathing. 

About ten o’clock Sir Windham Winn, the celebrated 
surgeon, made his appearance with Popley. 

Olla gently unclasped her hand from that of Tressi- 
lian, and came forward to meet the surgeon. 

He was a tall, well-made, portly Welsh gentleman, 
with a fair and ruddy face, and a prompt air of business, 
which declared as plainly as words could have done that 
“ time is money.” There was that in his expression, 
however, and in the glances of his pale blue eyes, that 
inspired Olla not only with confidence in his skill, but 
also enlisted her friendship. 

“ I have sent for you, Sir Windham,” she said, with a 
glance at Tressilian, whose eyes were still shut, and 
who looked as if sleeping, “ in behalf of a friend of mine 
— a gentlemau who is travelling with our party — who is 
very ill. He met with a terrible accident in Sicily, some 
weeks since, and received an injury to his skull which 
has paralyzed his brain. Be seated, and I will give you 
the story at length.” 


STILL ON THE WING. 


155 


The narrative thus promised being- necessary to a full 
comprehension of the patient’s injury and condition, 
Sir Windham Winn removed his greatcoat and gloves, 
and took a seat by the fire, his gaze wandering from 
Olla to Tressilian and back again. 

Olla told her story clearly and concisely, dealing with 
Tressilian’s adventures almost exclusively, and saying 
nothing about her guardian, or her own friendlessness. 

The surgeon listened with grave attentiveness. 
When Olla described the surgical operation performed 
upon Guy by the brigand 4 Doctor,’ Sir Windham smiled, 
and said : 

“ Pardon me, my dear young lady, but did you think 
that the human brain, when out of order, might be 
repaired like some worn-out clock ? It is a mercy that 
your friend was not rendered an imbecile indeed !” 

It was evident that the great surgeon’s opinion of the 
brigand “ Doctor’s ” merits fell far short of the “ Doc- 
tor’s ” opinion of himself. 

With a flushing cheek, Olla continued her story, 
reciting, in conclusion, Tressilian’s sensitiveness in 
regard to the hotel and street noises, and her desire to 
remove him to a secluded country house. 

The surgeon arose, went to the couch, and examined 
Tressilian’s pulse. Guy looked at him with a vague 
and uncertain gaze, but manifested no surprise at his 
presence. 

With a grave countenance, Sir Windham gently 
removed the bandages upon Tressilian’s skull. The 
gaping, unhealed wound was displayed in all its horror. 
Popley was at hand, ready to act as assistant, should 
his services be required. Olla and Mrs. Popley stood 
at the foot of the couch. 

After a somewhat protracted investigation of Guy’s 
injury, Sir Windham ordered Popley to restore the 


156 


GUY TRESSILIAN S FATE. 


bandaefes to their former place, and addressed himself 
to Olla. 

“ The young man’s injury is very severe, Madam,” he 
said. “ I wonder that he survived it. The bungling 
operation that was performed upon it in Italy has not 
greatly improved matters. The wound is in a serious 
state of inflammation. The first thing to be had is 
absolute quiet. How far distant is your country- 
house ?” 

“ It is in Northumberland.” 

“ Humph ! He will have to be moved under the 
influence of opiates. And the sooner the better. He 
would not live a week in this turmoil. The operation 
will have to be deferred until after his removal. It will 
be one attended by much danger, and if I undertake it, 
I must have my patient in a place where attendant cir- 
cumstances will not hinder his recovery.” 

“ But you will undertake it, Sir Windham, will you 
not ?” cried Olla, detecting reluctance in his tones. “ I 
will pay you any sum you may charge — a hundred 
pounds — a hundred and fifty pounds — more !” and she 
drew out her stuffed little portmonnaie whose plethoric 
condition might have reassured a more sordid man than 
Sir Windham Winn. “ Name your own price, Sir 
Windham, and here is a retaining fee.” 

.She counted out ten golden sovereigns, and pressed 
them upon the surprised surgeon. He accepted them, 
putting them in his pocket, and was the regularly 
engaged medical attendant of Tressilian. 

“ Will you not go with us to the north ?” asked Olla, 
her quick brain devising instantly a plan of action. 
“ The house is in the charge of an old couple who are 
permitted to occupy the servant’s rooms rent free, on 
condition of caring for the place. I will send Popley on 
in advance to prepare rooms for use, and we could fol- 


STILL ON THE WING. 


157 


low by the evening train, if you would kindly go with 
us.” 

“ Where is the house, did you say ?” 

“ Among the Cheviot Hills. It is called Bleak Top. 
It belongs to me. And I— I have neglected to introduce 
myself, Sir Windham. I am Miss Olla Rymple, orphan 
daughter of the late Honorable James Rymple, and 
more lately a ward of Lady Fedora Welby, my mother’s 
friend. Circumstances have conspired to throw me 
upon the world ; yet I am not alone, for these faithful 
servants of mine have guarded me from my child- 
hood.” 

“ And you are the daughter of James Rymple !” 
exclaimed the surgeon, in tones of interest. “ I knew 
your father, my dear young lady. He was a wild, gen- 
erous, noble fellow. He died young. I did not know 
that he had left a daughter.” 

He extended his hand to Olla, adding : 

“ I will befriend you to the best of my ability, my dear 
Miss Rymple. 1 should like to be a friend to poor 
Rymple’s orphan daughter. I will accompany you to 
Northumberland by the night train. You had better send 
your servant on at once, with orders to have the rooms 
well warmed and aired. Even a journey to Northum- 
berland would not fatigue your friend more than a night 
here.” 

Olla sent Popley out to inquire the hour of departure 
of the next train north. By the time he returned, Olla 
and Sir Windham were excellent friends, and all the 
details of the northern journey had been arranged. 

Popley announced that he had just time to catch the 
north-bound train. His young mistress placed a' suffic- 
ient sum of money in his hands, ordered him to take a 
supply of provisions on to Bleak Top from Alnwick, 


158 


GUY TRESSILIAN’S FATE. 


and Mrs. Popley then added a few housewifely injunc- 
tions, in the midst of which Popley took his departure. 

A sort of lethargy was creeping over Tressilian, and 
the surgeon administered to him some necessary medi- 
cine, acting as a sedative upon the excited and inflamed 
brain, and gave directions in regard to cooling exterior 
applications. He then went away. 

All day long Tressilian lay in a sort of stupor. Now 
and then he would arouse himself at the sound of Olla’s 
voice, but only to fall feebly back again into a deeper 
lethargy. 

It may be imagined that this lonely watch by his side 
was not inspiriting to the poor young girl troubled upon 
so many accounts. 

The day drew near its close. Before lamplight, Sir 
Windham Winn returned, equipped for his long, cold 
journey. From the moment of his arrival, he took 
charge of his patient. He fed him a nourishing broth, 
administered a new medicine which had the effect of 
giving Tressilian a factitious strength, and he put upon 
him his greatcoat and outer wrappings. 

Olla and Mrs. Popley made themselves ready, and the 
four, Tressilian leaning upon Sir Windham’s arm, 
descended to the waiting cab. A light snow was fall- 
ing, melting on the sloppy pavements. The street 
lamps were lighted. The little party entered the cab, 
and were driven to the Great Northern Railway Ter- 
minus. And as the sullen, wintry night deepened, they 
entered a railway coach of the Great Northern line, and 
started on their way to the bleak Cheviot Hills. 



CHAPTER XV. 

BLEAK TOP. 

One of the loneliest and dreariest of the Cheviot Hills 
in Northumberland is the one known as Bleak Mountain. 
It is grim and bare, save for patches of stunted pines 
and Northern firs and an extensive planted shrubbery. 

At the foot pf Bleak Mountain clusters the small ham- 
let of Gloamvale, already described to the reader, upon 
the occasion of Jasper Lowder’s visit to the neighbor- 
hood. 

Upon the flank of the mountain, and a mile distant 
from the village, is situated the lonely old farm-house 
belonging to Guy Tre.ssilian, in whose dreary solitude 
Jasper Lowder had immured his wronged young wife 
and her boy. 

The road, rough and rugged, winds up from Gloam- 
vale across the moors, past Gloam Fell, and yet more 
steeply up the mountain side to the very summit of the 
elevation. 

And upon this lonely summit, like a crown, stands the 
solitary mansion known as Bleak Top. It is an old 
stone building, of rambling proportions, two stories in 
height, and having a tall, steep, overhanging roof orna- 

[ 159 ] 


160 


GUY TKESSILIAN’S FATE. 


mented thickly with projecting dormer windows ; its 
chimneys standing from the roof in clusters. The house 
is plainly built, but its appearance is hospitable, in the 
extreme. 

It had been a favorite shooting-box with the late Mr. 
Rymple, the father of Olla, but had been unused since 
his day. The house had been for years under the care 
of an elderly woman and her grandson. 

In the rear of the house, at a little distance, is a group 
of out-buildings, including stable, cow-house and hen- 
house. These complete the appendages of the little 
estate, which comprises nearly the whole mountain. 
Gloam Fell is the only house besides Bleak Top on the 
mountain, and Gloam Fell is more than a mile distant. 

The snow was falling fitfully, and the wind was sweep- 
ing the rugged face of the country in chill gusts, upon 
the wild December morning when Olla Rymple and 
Mrs. Popley, Sir Windham Winn and Guy Tressilian 
alighted from the train at Alnwick, on their way to 
Bleak Top. 

As Jasper Lowder had done, on the occasion of his 
visit to the same place, they proceeded first of all to a 
hotel, where they procured a hot breakfast and ordered 
a post-chaise to be got ready immediately. 

Tressilian under the influence of medicine, was able 
to walk, leaning upon the great surgeon’s arm. He 
was looking very ill. His face was pale as death, save 
in the cheeks, where a hectic flush burned fitfully. He 
had slept well during the night, thanks to narcotics, 
and seemed to be little worse for the noise and jar of 
the railway, but it was evident that the constant excite- 
ment in which he had lived since leaving Sicily was 
swiftly wearing him out. 

“ We must get him in bed as soon as possible,’’ said 
Sir Windham gravely, after having dressed his patient's 





THEY HODE DOWN THE MOUNTAIN SWE.—A'ef Chapter XXJ\\ 




BLEAK TOP. 


161 


wound and given him a suitable breakfast. “ He can- 
not bear up much longer. His wound is in a highly 
inflamed state. The operation should be performed 
to-day, if we hope to have it successful.” 

At this juncture the post-chaise was announced, and 
the party, wrapping themselves well against the pierc- 
ing cold, descended to take their places in it. A supply 
of tin hot-water cans and woolen lap robes promised to 
mitigate the coldness of the weather. The curtains of 
the vehicle were closely buttoned down to keep out the 
gusty wind, and the driver, enveloped in a cloak of 
many capes and muffled closely about the head and 
ears, mounted to his box. 

The journey proved a hard one. Despite their pre- 
cautions, the wind crept into the vehicle, and the cold 
came with it. Tressilian sank into a lethargy and 
scarcely moved, and did not once speak during the 
drive. Sir Windham was loud in his complaints ; Mrs. 
Popley shivered continually ; and even patient, brave 
little Olla found the exposure almost beyond endurance. 

At Alnham they stopped to warm and refresh them- 
selves. Sir Windham ordered hot, spiced drinks for all 
except his patient. The tin cans were refilled with hot 
water, and the travellers resumed their journey. 

Soon after eleven o’clock the post-chaise rattled up 
the narrow, stony, single street of Gloamvale. Passing 
through the hamlet without stopping, the party pushed 
on for Bleak Top. 

The wide and windy commons were covered with a 
foot of snow, and the flakes were still falling. Olla 
wiped off the wet window-pane with her handkerchief, 
and pressing her face against the glass, looked out upon 
the dreary scenery. 

As the vehicle labored heavily past the old farm- 
house of Gloam Fell the young girl noticed the smoke 


162 


GUY TRESSILTAN’S FATE. 


from its chimneys, and saw at the parlor window a 
patient, girlish face beside that of a rosy, laughing 
baby. 

Hester Lowder and her boy were watching the snow- 
flakes and the gambols of the wind. 

“ Has Gloam Fell a new tenant, I wonder ?” exclaimed 
Olla, at once interested in the • young mother and her 
child. “ Old Mrs. Tooker has no children. I know all 
about the tenants at Gloam Fell, for I came often to 
Bleak Top in my early childhood. Gloam Fell is the 
only house on the mountain besides Bleak Top, and it is 
owned by a Tressilian, one of the Tressilians of Tressil- 
ian Court, in Gloucestershire.” 

“ Is it indeed ?” said Sir Windham. “ Sir Arthur Tres- 
silian’s son and heir has lately returned from a. long 
residence abroad, I hear. I know Sir Arthur well. It 
is a fine old family, that of the Tressilians.” 

The concluding mile of travel seemed harder than 
all that had preceded it. The road was steep and 
rugged, the snow was piled at various points in drifts, 
and in exposed places the wind assailed them so fierce- 
ly that the horses could with difficulty maintain their 
footing. 

But at last they turned into the home grounds of 
Bleak Top through wide, open gates, and proceeded by 
a drive between two long rows of firs toward the gray 
old stone house. As they reached the porch the house 
door was flung open, and Popley came running down 
the steps to give them welcome. 

“ I did not think you would venture further than 
Alnwick to-day, Miss Olla,” exclaimed the faithful fel- 
low, opening the chaise door. The weather is terrible ; 
and the prospect is that it will be still worse.” 

He gave his hand to his young mistress, who sprang 
lightly out. Mrs. Popley followed more slowly. Then 


BLEA.K TOP. 


163 


came Sir Windham Winn, who had succeeded in arous- 
ing Tressilian from his stupor, and who now gave his 
patient his arm and led him up the steps. 

Olla hurried on in advance, but paused at the thres- 
hold to say : 

“ Popley, take the horses around to the stable, and 
see that they are well cared for. Then take the driver 
into the kitchen and give him the best of food and 
drink that the house affords. He will remain at Bleak 
Top till to-morrow.” 

Popley obeyed, mounting the box beside the well- 
pleased driver, and hurried the horses to the stable. 

Olla opened the house door, and entered a long, well- 
lighted hall, whose bare floor was finely polished, and 
which was warmed by a great wood fire. 

Off this hall opened a drawing room, into which Olla 
led her guests, while Mrs. Popley set out to discover the 
guardian of the house and her grandson. 

The drawing-room comprised two snug apartments, 
with folding doors between. These doors were now 
opened throwing the two rooms into one. In each 
room, upon a broad and cleanly hearth, a genial wood 
fire was burning. The walls of the double-room were 
low, and wainscoted to the ceiling. The windows were 
plentiful, though narrow, and set in a diamond-shaped 
lattice. The curtains were of white muslin, freshly 
washed and looped up with red ribbons. The carpet 
was faded, but in excellent repair. The furniture, that 
morning released from swaddling clothes of brown hol- 
land, in which it had been invested for years, looked 
fresh and almost new, its upholstery of green reps 
being unfaded. The room was light, warm and pleasant, 
a very haven of refuge to the cold and wind-beaten 
travellers. 

Sir Windham Winn employed himself in removing 


164 


GUY TRESSILIAn’s FATE. 


his own and Tressilian’s wrappings. Olla tossed off 
her hat and jacket, and set out to find Mrs. Popley and 
the old care-taker of the house. 

Crossing the great, warm, draughty hall, and travers- 
ing a cozy dining-room, Olla found herself at the door 
of the housekeeper’s room. Opening this door, she 
entered the room. Mrs. Popley and the housekeeper 
were standing before a fire, in earnest conversation, 
but both c^me forward at the entrance of the 5 T oung 
mistress of Bleak Top, the housekeeper courtesying 
profoundly. 

She was an elderly woman, tall and gaunt, but with a 
pleasant, honest face. Her name was Mrs. Kipp, and, 
in his, day, her husband had been butler in the house- 
hold of Olla’s father. Upon the death of -Kipp, the 
widow had been given a home in this bleak region and 
here she had since lived with her grandson. 

“You are welcome to Bleak Top, Miss Olla,” she 
exclaimed. “Ah, you have grown since I saw you last, 
m} T bonny young lady. This is no season to enjoy the 
mountain air. It is dreary here on the border in the 
winter time, but we’ll try to make the old house pleas- 
ant to you, Miss Olla.” 

“ I have not come here for enjoyment, Mrs. Kipp, but 
for safety,” said Olla, with a winning smile, as she 
extended her hand. “ I want you and your grandson 
to remain under wages. Mrs. Popley will tell you why I 
came. And now I want you to show me the guest- 
chambers. We have brought an invalid with us, and 
it will be necessary to get him to bed at once.” 

Mrs. Kipp had already heard something of Tressilian 
from Popley, and now hastened to conduct her young 
mistress through the dwelling. 

She led her back to the main hall, Mrs. Popley fol- 
lowing, and to the stair-case hall. They ascended to 


BLEAK TOP. 


165 


the upper story. Here a long, well-lighted corridor, 
through which draughts of wind were skurrying, divdi- 
ed the floor. Upon either side, chambers opened. 

At their left were three bedrooms communicating. 
All these were pleasantly warmed. One of them had 
been arranged by Popley for the use of Tressiiian, 
a second for Sir Windham Winn, who would remain one 
night at Bleak Top, and the third was intended for the 
occupancy of Popley himself, who intended to consti- 
tute himself Tressilian’s nurse and valet. 

The rooms prepared for Tressiiian and the great sur- 
geon were fitted up with fresh curtains, fresh and well- 
aired bed linen, lounges and easy-chairs. .They were 
very inviting. 

Olla was examining them when she heard Popley in 
the lower hal’l, and she exclaimed : 

“I will have Mr. Lowder brought up immediately, 
Mrs. Kipp, and will then look at my own room. Where 
is your grandson ?” 

“ At the stable, Miss Olla. He went out to help 
take care of the beasts.” 

Bidding the two women await her return, Olla ran 
down stairs and announced to the surgeon that Tressil- 
ian’s room was ready. Guy was lying upon a sofa, his 
strength quite gone. Sir Windham endeavored to 
arouse him, but the lethargy enthralling him was too 
deep to be easily broken. 

“ We shall have to carry him up between us, Popley,” 
said the surgeon, with a grave look in his eyes. 

Popley obeyed Sir Windham’s directions, and, with 
the surgeon’s aid, carried Tressiiian to the chamber that 
had been prepared for him. The women retired into 
the hall, and Sir Windham went into his own room, 
while Popley undressed the invalid and put him to 
bed. 


166 


GUY TRESSILIAN’S FATE. 


“ These are your rooms and Mrs. Popley’s, Miss 
Olla,” said Mrs. Kipp, throwing open the door of the 
chamber opposite Tressilian’s. “And now if you will 
excuse me, I will go down and see to the dinner. It 
will be served in fifteen minutes, as Mr. Popley 
ordered.” 

She withdrew, and Olla entered the chamber assigned 
her. They were three in number, connecting. The 
third had been fitted up for Mrs. Popley. The others 
comprised a bedroom and dressing-room, and it was 
evident that Popley had expended his choicest skill in 
fitting them up in a manner suitable for his young mis- 
tress. Tho- great brass fire-dogs, supporting burning 
logs, were burnished to a superlative degree of bright- 
ness. A hearth-rug, rescued on the previous day from 
a shroud of sacking, lay before the hearth like a bed 
of glowing flowers. The bed, a high and antique four- 
poster, was draped in snowy sheets and spread, and 
white curtains hung at the windows. A lounge and an 
arm chair added a look of delicious comfort to the 
whole. 

“ Ah, this is pleasant !” exclaimed Olla delightedly. 
“ How home-like it all looks ! And how many fires 
there are in the house !” 

“Yes, Miss Olla. Mrs. Kipp was saying to me that 
the fires have been burning in every room since Jim 
came,” answered Mrs. Popley. “ The rooms were colder 
than Iceland, and damp too. And the house is draughty 
as a barn. The roof leaks, and there ’s an inch of snow 
in spots on the attic floor. Mrs. Kipp, her grandson 
Kit, and my son, were up nearly all last night, putting 
things to rights. The carpets were sewed up in sacking, 
and the furniture was done up in bags. Mrs. Kipp 
would have met you at the door this morning, but that 


BLEAK TOE. 


167 


she had to see to the dinner, and Kit was too bashful to 
show himself.” 

Olla investigated her rooms, and made her toilet by 
brushing her hair and dress, and bathing her wind- 
burned face. She then descended to the drawing-room, 
where she was soon joined by Sir Windham Winn, who 
had freshly attired himself. 

“ I know this house very well, Miss Olla,” he observed. 
“ I came here twenty years ago with a shooting party, 
by invitation of your father. This was a famous shoot- 
ing-box in those days.” 

At this juncture Popley announced dinner. Sir Wind- 
ham gave Olla his arm and conducted her out to the 
dining-room, where a little round table had been laid 
with covers for two. The table-cloth was fine and white, 
the silver burnished, the china and glass clear as crystal ; 
while, best of all, there were roasted game birds, fine 
bread, vegetables, omelettes and other dainty edibles, 
supplemented with a bottle of crusty port and a decan- 
ter of sherry. 

Popley waited upon the table, assisted by Christopher 
Kipp, a tall, sturdy, well-made young fellow, who seemed 
afflicted with an unconquerable bashfulness. 

With the dessert of apple-tart and oranges, coffee was 
brought in. Sir Windham and Olla, left to themselves, 
talked long and earnestly, and Olla told her story, all 
her hopes, fears and perils, to the great surgeon, whose 
interest in her became deeply excited. 

“ You think it possible that Mr. Gower does not know 
that you own Bleak Top ?” Sir Windham inquired. 

‘‘ He has never spoken of it, Sir Windham. He has 
not charge of my property, as I was left to the guard- 
ianship of a lady — the lady who became his wife. It 
was she who consigned me to his care. The land belong- 
ing to Bleak Top has been leased for many years. The 


168 


GUY TRESSILIAN’S FATE. 


house could not be let, and has been left in charge of 
Mrs. Kipp. I am quite sure that Mr. Gower does not 
even know of the existence of Bleak Top.” 

“ It will be easy for him to obtain an inventory of your 
property,” observed the surgeon thoughtfully. “ The 
bad weather will be a defence to you, in case he succeeds 
in getting upon your track. I think you will be safe 
here for the present. You may depend upon my friend- 
ship and assistance should you need them, Miss Olla. 
Should Mr. Gower appear here and offer to molest you, 
send to Alnwick and telegraph to me at once. I will 
come at your call. I shall return to town to-morrow in 
any case, having patients to visit. I will consult a first- 
class lawyer, and see what steps are necessary to effect 
your release from the guardianship of Gower.” 

Olla thanked Sir Windham warmly, and they contin- 
ued their discussion of the matter. A little later the 
surgeon went up to his patient, who had remained in 
charge of Popley. Tressilian was still in a stupor, his 
eyes closed, his breathing low and uneven. It seemed 
as if his lamp of life were burning dimly. Sir Windham 
felt his pulse. It beat faintly and irregularly. 

The surgeon issued a few directions to Popley, who 
darkened the room, lighted candles, and proceeded to 
loosen the bandages covering Tressilian’s wound. 

After a long and close examination of the gaping 
hurt, Sir Windham said briefly : 

“ Lock the door. We must go to work at once !” 

Popley hastened to obey, locking the door. 

Olla, in her own chamber opposite, heard the clicking 
of bolts, and turned pale. She comprehended that the 
hour had come which should decide the fate of Tressib 
ian — whether he should live or die : whether he should 
be an imbecile, or in full possession of his intellect. 
Wrapping a shawl about her head and shoulders, she 


BLEAK TOP. 


169 


left her warm room and crept out into the cold, draughty 
hall, taking up her station near the door of Tressilian’s 
room, her soul convulsed with an insupportable anxiety. 

How slowly the minutes passed ! She could hear, now 
and then, the low tones of the surgeon addressing Pop- 
ley. She could hear a sound occasionally, as of Popley 
moving across the chamber. But for these a dead silence 
reigned — a silence that might be of death. 

The minutes lengthened into hours. The short 
December afternoon drew near its close. The wind 
rushed past the lonely old house of Bleak Top, rattling 
shutters, slamming doors, and tearing through the trees 
like some screaming demon. A strong, chill draught 
crept through the halls and corridors of the exposed 
dwellipg. The glow of Olla’s great wood fire reflected 
a red light against the opposite wall of her dressing- 
room, and stole genially out into the corridor, where 
the girl sat like a statue, all her faculties concentrated 
in the one of listening. 

The shadows were clustering thickly in the lonely 
hall, and the time was the gray, chill twilight, when a 
sound came from the sick-room that nearly froze the 
blood in the young listener’s veins. 

It was a low, wild moan, a wail of unutterable sad- 
ness — the quick, startled cry of one in the extremity of 
bodily suffering. 

“ He is dying !” breathed the girl, in a hushed whis- 
per. “ Dying ! Oh, God help him !” 

She arose and tottered to the wide window at the end 
of the hall. She sat down upon the broad window-seat, 
where the snow lay thickly as it had drifted in through 
the crevices of the window sash. Pressing her face 
closely against the frosty pane, she stared silently out 
into the night, seeing nothing of the sleet and storm, 
and hearing nothing of the wild winds. 


170 


GUY TRESSILIAN S FATE. 


She had been sitting there a long time, silent as 
death, a wild, scared look on her young face, a strange 
expectancy in her dusky eyes, and with the fine snow 
drifting in upon her slender figure and upon her gar- 
ments like a thin shroud, when at last Tressilian’s door 
opened, and Sir Windham Winn came out into the 
hall. 

He looked tired and worn. He looked up and down** 
the corridor, saw the silent figure in the great window- 
seat, and approached her with a weary step. 

The girl turned her head slowly. 

“ He — he is dead ?” she said, in a low, husky voice. 

“Dead? Oh, no !” returned the Doctor cheerfully. 

“ We have brought him safely through, Miss Olla. He 
is sleeping now, a regular, healthy sleep, yet one of per- 
fect exhaustion. We have saved his life, with God’s 
help, and, better still, his reason ! When he wakens 
some hours hence, he will, I hope and believe, be in his 
right mind — in full possession of his intellect, his rea- 
son, and his memory. He will, in short, be himself 
again !” 


CHAPTER XVI. 

“ THE WAY OF THE TRANGRESSOR.” 

As the two men, Jasper Lowder and Jacopo Palestro, 
continued to approach the very tree against whose huge 
trunk Sir Arthur Tressilian was leaning, the Baronet 
grew keenly apprehensive of discovery. He pressed 
closer against the tree stem, a deeper shadow among 
shadows, more silent than the leaves above him or the 
grass beneath his feet. And thus, in the still night and 


“the way of the transgressor.” 


171 


the darkness, he watched the conspirators, and waited 
for them to speak with an eagerness that was painfully 
intense. 

What was the mystery about his supposed son ? What 
was the secret between him and this mysterious and 
sinister foreigner ? 

These were the questions weighing heavily upon the 
Baronet’s soul. These were the questions to which he 
was determined to obtain an answer before he would 
yield into the hands of Jasper Lowder the whole future 
of lovely, innocent Blanche. 

The two men came nearer, passed the tree quite 
unconscious of the eyes peering out from its shadow, 
and halted in the Park path, at the distance of a few 
paces from Sir Arthur, and well within ear-shot of the 
Baronet. 

“You have got the two thousand pounds with you, 
Milord Sir Tresolino ?” inquired Palestro. 

“ It is near at hand,” answered Lowder. 

“ It is in gold, of course ?'* asked the Italian. “ I do 
not like the paper money. It is but rags with writing 
upon it. Give me the yellow coin that rings when it 
falls. That is money the world over.” 

“ The two thousand pounds is all in coin. I knew 
that you would have a prejudice against paper money.” 

“ All in coin ! It must be a fine sight !” cried Pales- 
tro, eagerly. “ My fingers itch to get hold of it. Where 
did you get so much money in so short a time, Signore, 
when last night you declared you could not raise a sum 
so big ?” , 

“ It is my business where I got it,” said Lowder, sul- 
lenly. “ Yet stay ; I will tell you. There is no need 
of squeamishness in the matter. I stole the money from 
— from my father’s safe. I robbed him.” 

“ Madre di Dio.” 


172 


GUY TRESSILIAn’s FATE. 


“ He had the money in his safe last night. It was 
intended for the purchase of a farm. I stole the key of 
his safe from his chamber, and abstracted the money — ” 

“ He is no squeamish lad, this Milord,” cried Palestro, 
rolling up his eyes in admiration of his companion. 
‘ You should be a brigand, Sir Tresolino. But is not 
theft a crime ? Why do you tell me of }"our guilt ?” 

“ I should be the last person in the world to be sus- 
pected of the robbery,” answered Lowder. “ Even if 
you were to declare what I have told you, no one would 
believe you. You were seen about the grounds yester- 
day. Sir Arthur spoke of you as an ill-looking foreigner. 
Suspicion may be directed against you as the thief, if 
you are found hanging about the neighborhood longer. 
If the money were found in your possession, you would 
be convicted of the robbery upon circumstantial evi- 
dence, and sentenced to penal servitude for twenty 
years, possibly for life. With the money therefore I 
give you a warning. Have a trap convey you to Glou- 
cester within the hour. Make all haste to quit England 
and you will be safe. Delay, and you are lost.” 

Palestro’s teeth chattered with an absolute terror. 

Lowder's object in revealing to him the truth con- 
cerning the robbery had been to cause him to quit 
England immediately. He desired to make it plain to 
Palestro that he would run his neck into a noose, should 
he venture to approach Sir Arthur Tressilian upon any 
pretext whatsoever. He meant to guard against any 
possibility of Palestro’s treachery to himself, and his 
design was successful. The Italian would not have 
dared to draw the Baronet’s attention upon himself for 
twice two thousand pounds, now that he comprehended 
the pitfall Lowder had dug for him. 

“ Yes, yes, Milord,” he said shivering. “ I will do as 
you say. I- will goat once. Ah, what if I should be 


173 


“ THE WAY OF THE TRANSGRESSOR. ” 

found here ? Why did I remain at the inn in the village 
all day ? Why did I not go back to Gloucester last 
night ’ I am in one trap. Preste ! One thousand 
demons ! What would Giuditta say to this ! Give me 
the money, Milord Sir Tresolino, and let me go.” 

“ One word, Palestro. Leave to-night and immedi- 
ately, and I will guarantee your safety. Delay, and 
you are lost. Write me from Naples. Keep me in- 
formed every week, and you will find me true to my 
word. The day that finds me Sir Guy Tressilian, I will 
remit to you a second sum of two thousand pounds.” 

Thanks, Signore ; I will be true as steel. I swear 
by the Madre del Dio and all the holy saints that I will 
never betray you. I swear to be true to you by this 
sign of the Cross.” 

And as Palestro spoke, he waved his finger in the air, 
forming a sign of the cross. He had sworn an oath 
that would be binding upon him. Base and treacher- 
ous and unscrupulous as he was, he had yet a vague 
respect for the religion his mother had taught him in 
his innocent childhood, and he would not have dared to 
break this oath. 

“ That is well,” declared Lowder. “ And now for the 
money. Follow me.” 

He led the way along the park path, amid the dusky 
shadows. The moon, not yet at its full, had been hid- 
den behind a bank of gray clouds all the evening, but 
now a few pale, watery beams straggled down through 
the rifts of the trees and played upon the figures of 
Lowder and Palestro, and dimly lighted the path they 
were treading. Sir Arthur Tressilian, keeping within 
the shadows of the trees, followed his guides. 

Lowder led the way to the secluded spot where grew 
the hollow tree in whose heart he had hidden the stolen 
money. The two men and their unseen follower came 


174 


guy tressilian’s fate. 


to a halt at this spot. Lowder plunged his hand into 
the recess formed in the hollow trunk, and drew out 
the bag of gold. 

“There it is !” he said, letting it drop heavily upon 
the ground. “ Take it, and be off !” 

“One moment, Signore,” answered Palestro, his 
cupidity overcoming for the moment his fears. “ I will 
look at it.” 

He had a large black bag in his hand, formed of a 
stout skin. He unlocked this bag, and drew out a dark 
lantern. Reversing the slide of the lantern, a stream 
of light poured upon the bag of money, and upon the 
faces of the two men. 

Palestro knelt on the ground and untied the string 
at the mouth of the money-bag, and plunged his hand 
eagerly within. Presently he brought into the light 
a handful of glittering coins. He examined them curi- 
ously. He rung them upon a stone near at hand, lis- 
tening to their ring as to fairy music. With the sus- 
piciousness of his kind, he plunged his hand between 
the yielding coin, bringing up treasure from the very 
bottom of the bag. 

“ It's all right,” he muttered, with a gloating look at 
the yellow heap. “ All right. Thanks, Signore. You 
will find me the most faithful of allies. You shall have 
tidings each week. I know where my own interests 
lie. And I shall be true to my oath.” 

He tied up the money, and thrust it into his capacious 
black bag, which he locked. 

“ Good-bye, Signore,” he said. “ And good luck !” 

He turned to depart. 

The conversation, which we have translated into 
English, had transpired in Italian, but Sir Arthur had 
heard and comprehended it fully, so far as the words 
went. But the hidden import of the scene he could not 


175 


“tiie way of the transgressor.” 

penetrate. Why Lowder found it necessary to pay Pal- 
estro a bribe of two thousand pounds io insure his fidel- 
ity, the Baronet could not understand. 

But he intended to know. He was a man of quick 
decisiveness. Therefore, as Palestro turned to go with 
the money Lowder had stolen, the Baronet stepped 
abruptly from the surrounding gloom into the circle of 
light caused by Palestro’s lantern. 

And there he halted, pale and stern, his arms folded 
across his chest, his rebuking, accusing eyes looking 
from one to the other of the conspirators ! 

It was a fearful moment for Jasper Lowder. A fear- 
ful moment for the scheming ex-scrivener. 

Lowder recoiled several paces, with a wild cry of 
amazement and terror. Palestro let fall his lantern 
and clutched his bag, glaring wildly into the surround- 
ing gloom. 

“ You here ?” gasped Lowder, in a husky, frightened 
voice. “You here?" 

The Baronet looked at his supposed son in an awful 
and accusing sternness. 

“Yes, Guy,” he answered, “ I am here. I have heard 
all that has passed between you and your accomplice. 
I know that you are the midnight robber who plundered 
my safe. And now — what does this mean ?” 

Lowder could not answer. His tongue clung to the 
roof of his mouth. He stood appalled, a very statue of 
horror. 

Sir Arthur turned his stern and terrible eyes upon 
Palestro in the same awful glance. 

“ In payment of what service have you received this 
money ?” he demanded in Italian. 

Palestro’s face turned a sickly yellow. He trembled 
in affright. He believed that he was about to be judged 
and sentenced upon the spot by this awe-inspiring 


176 


GUY TRESSILIAN’S FATE. 


being as an accomplice of Lowder. Gasping for breath, 
he looked helplessly at his employer. 

That glance reminded the usurper that his stolen posi- 
tion, his wealth, honors, and intended bride even, were 
all at stake. He struggled with his terror and emotion, 
and regained a measure of his self-control. 

He approached Sir Arthur by two or three paces, and 
stood before the Baronet with head drooping low upon 
his breast, and with the aspect of a convicted criminal. 

“ Father,” he said, in a low, choking voice, “ I ac- 
knowledge my guilt. I stole the money from your safe ! 
I know not what untoward fate has betrayed my secret 
to you, but I confess my crime !” 

“ Why did you rob me ?” 

“ Because— because I owed this Italian the exact sum 
in your safe !” 

“ For what did you owe him ?” 

Lowder’s head drooped lower still. 

“ It was a — a gaming debt,” he whispered. 

Sir Arthur made a gesture of abhorrence. Again he 
turned his glance upon Palestro. 

The Italian, who, in his capacity of courier, had 
acquired a smattering of English, comprehended Low- 
der’s statement, and hastened to corroborate it. 

“ It is true Milord,” he ejaculated eagerly. “ The 
young man owed me for a gaming debt contracted at 
Naples. He was afraid Milord his father would hear of 
it. I pressed him for the money, for I have a wife to 
support. I am a poor man, Sir Tresolino,” he added, in 
a whining voice. “ Two thousand pounds is too big a 
sum for me to lose. Young men will be young men — ” 

Sir Arthur interrupted the fellow by a commanding 
gesture, and his glance returned to Lowder’s face. 

At the same moment the usurper made a quick, sig- 
nificant motion with his left hand, which had fallen to 


“this way of the transgressor.” 177 

his side. The Baronet did not observe the gesture, but 
Palestro both saw and comprehended it. 

With a quick, serpent-like movement, taking advan- 
tage of Sir Arthur’s averted gaze, he retreated into the 
surrounding shadow, his bag in his hand, and hurried 
away, bent upon securing hrs own safety and that of his 
basely acquired money. 

The Baronet almost immediately discovered his flight, 
but he made no effort to pursue him. A greater grief 
than that occasioned by the loss of his money weighed 
upon his soul. The lantern burned brightly upon the 
ground between Sir Arthur and Lowder. The latter 
continued to stand with downcast head, and the former 
continued to regard him with stern accusing. 

At last Sir Arthur broke the terrible silence. 

“A liar — a thief — a gambler!” he said, in a slow, 
strange, sorrowful voice. ** And this is my son ? This is 
the heir and latest representative of the honorable line of 
Tressilians ? This is the pure, honest, truthful, frank- 
souled boy I sent from me years ago? This is the son I 
have loved as my own soul ?” 

Lowder trembled before the awful pathos of that 
voice and these words. He began to realize what a dis- 
appointment he was proving to this high-minded, grand- 
souled Baronet. He had concealed his real nature and 
had played a part since his arrival at Tressilian Court ; 
but, clever actor as he was, he could not always hide his 
real nature, nor could he always bend circumstances to 
his unscrupulous will. And now Sir Arthur was begin- 
ning to understand his real character. 

“ What shall I say ?” cried the usurper, in a passion- 
ate voice. “ I was thrown into temptation, and, like 
most young men in similar circumstances, I yielded. I 
gambled at Naples with that fellow. Ah, he is fled ! 
I lied to conceal my folly and guilt. But I swear to 


178 


GUY TRESSILIAN’S FATE. 


you that I have gambled but this once. As to the 
money of which I robbed you, you can let it go in this 
wav instead of for a farm. Of course I must pay a 
debt of honor — ” 

“ Of honor ?” ejaculated Sir Arthur scornfully. “ You 
talk of honor ? And that man an inn-keeper, a retired 
servant ; perhaps an ignorant, low fellow, is your friend 
and creditor ! A pretty debt of honor which is paid 
from the proceeds of a robbery !” 

“ I — I didn’t look at it as a robbery,” muttered Low- 
der. “ It was to buy me a wedding gift. Besides, it 
would have been mine some day with the Tressilian 
estates — ” 

“ More’s the pity. I am sorry for my tenants that 
such a landlord is in store for them. I am sorry for 
my servants. Had I the power I would alienate the 
estates from you and leave them to a stranger.” 

“ I am no worse than any other young man,” said 
Lowder sullenly. “ I am sorry for my errors, and I 
will try to amend them. Here at Tressilian Court I 
shall have no temptations to evil, but every incentive 
to do right. This one error stands alone. Can you not 
forgive and overlook it ?” 

“ I can forgive it, Guy, but I cannot forget it,” 
responded Sir Arthur, in a pained voice. “ I am ter- 
ribly disappointed in you. I fear that my confidence 
in you can never be restored.” 

“ Would you crush me for a single fault ? I am not 
so bad as you think. I lied and I robbed you in self- 
defence. I dared not tell you of the pressing need I 
had of so much money. You might give me another 
chance. You cannot rub out the fact that I am your 
son !” 

“ I would that I could ! I would that you had died in 
your innocent boyhood. The fact that it is my own 


“the way of the transgressor.” 179 

son who has so grossly deceived and cheated me, makes 
the deceit all the harder to bear. Yet I cannot lose 
the father in the judge. Wounded to the soul as I am, 
I will give you a chance to retrieve yourself. And, 
Guy,” added Sir Arthur, “ you will understand, of course, 
that your marriage with Blanche must be postponed. 
I must understand your character better before I give 
my pure young ward into your keeping.” 

Had a chasm suddenly yawned before Lowder, he 
could not have been more startled. 

“ That is not fair, sir,” he cried. “The marriage day 
lias been appointed, and the servants and villagers are 
all gossipping about it. You are not just to me. You 
will not give me a chance to retrieve myself. If my 
marriage to Blanche is postponed, I shall become des- 
perate. I need her loving influence, her tender guid- 
ance. If you deprive me of these, you wrong me 
cruelly !” 

Sir Arthur did not appear greatly moved by this 
declaration. The stern lines about his mouth did not 
relax, nor the deep sadness in his eyes soften. 

“ If I allowed Blanche to marry you at present, I 
should wrong her yet more cruelly,” he observed. “ She 
is an orphan, committed to my guardianship by her 
dying father. I will make no effort to break your 
engagement with her, but I shall insist upon the post- 
ponement of the marriage for a year, at the end of 
which time I can judge better of your worthiness to 
become her husband.” 

Lowder’s face became suddenly inflamed with wrath. 
His anger deprived him of his usual prudence. 

“ You want to put off the marriage to give yourself a 
chance,” he cried, with a coarse sneer. “ But so surely as 
you interfere between Blanche and me, just so surely 
will I betray your secret to her. What do you suppose 


180 


GUY TRESSILIAN’s FATE. 


Blanche will say when she hears that her guardian, 
the man she regards as her father, loves her ? Ha ! 
you didn’t know I had read your heart so well ! 
You didn’t know that I had discovered your secret wor- 
ship for your ‘young ward !’ You can judge whether 
Blanche would be likely to remain long under your 
roof after I have imparted my discovery to her.” 

Sir Arthur looked aghast, as well he might. A 
painful flush burned on his cheeks. 

“ And this man is my son ?” he murmured. 

“Your son and your friend,” returned Lowder, with 
an affectation of penitence for his hasty speech. “ Give 
me a chance, father ; let my marriage go on, and I will 
respect your secret. More — I will forget it. Let 
Blanche decide whether the marriage shall be postponed 
or not. Surely she ought to have a voice in the mat- 
ter.” 

Sir Arthur remembered that it was Blanche who had 
made known to him the guilt of his supposed son. He 
believed that Blanche had ceased to respect Low'der, 
and that she would decide to postpone the marriage. 
He believed that she would decide as he would have 
decided for her, and his secret would be saved from a 
coarse betrayal. Therefore he assented to Lowder’s 
proposition. 

“ We will leave the matter to Blanche !” he exclaimed. 
“ She shall do as she pleases.” 

With these words he turned abruptly away from his 
supposed son, and retraced his steps through the park 
to the Court. And as he went, his grand face over- 
spread with a look of awful desolation, he murmured 
again, in a broken voice, those words that sounded like 
the wail of a broken heart : 

“ And this man is my son ? How have I deserved so 
fearful a punishment ? What can have changed my 


DESOLATION. 


181 


once noble boy into this treacherous, false-hearted 
man ? My burden is greater than I can bear !” 


CHAPTER XVII. 

DESOLATION. 

Sir Arthur Tressilian and Jasper Lowder did not meet 
again upon that night which had revealed to the for- 
mer so much of the pretender’s real character. After 
the Baronet’s unsatisfactory interview with Lowder in 
the park, subsequent to the flight af Jacopo Palestro 
with the proceeds of Lowder’s robbery, Sir Arthur 
returned to the Court and went wearily up to his own 
chamber. 

Half an hour later, Lowder was heard coming softly 
up the stairs, proceeding to his own apartments. 

The night that followed brought no sleep to the Bar- 
onet. Wounded to the core by the man who stood to 
him in the place of a son — his pride and hope in his 
supposed rightful heir cruelly destroyed — his own secret 
passionate love for Blanche made a rude mock by the 
usurper — doubts and fears struggling within his 
breast — those slow night-hours were freighted for Sir 
Arthur with an anguish too deep for groans and tears. 

He sat in his unlighted chamber, a few pale moon 
rays streaming in through the window upon his bowed 
head. All around him within the chamber the shadows 
lay thickly, but deeper shadows were thronging thick 
and fast in his sorrowing soul. 

“ I could almost believe that this sullen, unprincipled 
man is not my son,” he thought, in an awful bitterness. 
“ I have loved Guy all my life better than I have loved 


182 


GUT TRESSILIAn’s FATE. 


my own soul. Yet now my heart seems dead to him. 

I have no father’s warmth of affection for him, no ten- 
derness, no pity or excuses for his errors. It is as if he 
were nothing to me — as if an abyss had yawned between 
us. I feel toward him as toward a stranger. What can 
be the reason ?” 

But no glimmer of the actual truth came to Sir 
Arthur’s perturbed brain. And had a suspicion of the 
imposture practiced upon him penetrated his mind, he 
would have rejected it as a wild and impossible chimera. 

He held his sad and lonely vigil until long after the 
gray December dawn lighted up his chamber. But as 
the morning deepened, the necessity of “ keeping up 
appearances ” before his household aroused him, and he 
arose from his chair, made his toilet, and changed his 
garments. 

He- was the first in the breakfast-room, grave and sad 
and troubled, yet a kindly look beamed in his eyes as 
Blanche came in in her pretty morning dress. He 
would not allow his gloom to overshadow her. 

She came up to him with extended hand. The con- 
sciousness that they shared together the secret of Low- 
der’s guilt, lent a shyness to her manner. 

“ You are not looking well, Sir Arthur,” she said, with 
perceptible anxiety. 

“ It is nothing, Blanche,” he answered, laying his 
hand gently upon her waving golden tresses and with- 
drawing it abruptly, as if such caresses were henceforth 
to be denied him. “ I did not sleep well.” 

The two were alone, Purmton and his assistants not 
yet having made their appearance. Blanche laid her 
hand lightly upon the Baronet’s arm, drawing him 
toward the glass door. 

“ I am afraid I did wrong to tell you that secret,” she 
murmured, as they paused before the out-look into the 


DESOLATION. 


183 


dreary garden. “ Oh, Sir Arthur ! I have suffered so 
much since yesterday — ” 

“ Sir Arthur !” repeated the Baronet, with a pang at 
his heart and a mild reproach in his voice, as he looked 
down into the fair, lovely face, framed in its golden 
tresses, and into the big, innocent gray eyes uplifted to 
his. “ You are growing formal, Blanche. I notice that 
I do not often hear now the old familiar name of 
‘ Guard y.’ What has changed you so ?” 

The girl’s hand fell from his arm. The sweet young 
face, tender as a violet, was swiftly averted, and Sir 
Arthur did not' see the sudden tide of glowing scarlet 
that stained her pure cheeks, and even her forehead. 
Nor did he notice the pallor that succeeded that wild- 
rose flush. 

He was silent a moment, fearing he had offended her ; 
then he said gently : 

“ Forgive me, Blanche. Call me what you will : only 
bear in mind that I desire above all things, to act 
toward you the part of an affectionate father. As to 
that wretched business of Guy’s, you did right to tell me. 
I had a long talk with Guy last night after you had 
retired. He does not know that you are aware of his 
guilt. He took the money to pay a gaming debt con- 
tracted in Naples.” 

“A gaming debt!” the girl murmured, shivering. 
“ He — he gambles ?” 

Before Sir Arthur could reply, the door opened and 
Jasper Lowder sauntered into the room. There wasno 
shadow of sleeplessness on his face ; no shadow of 
trouble in his eyes. He considered the small matter of 
the robbery fully settled, and was prepared to overlook 
Sir Arthur’s anger and disapproval, should the Baronet 
desist from all interference in his matrimonial project. 
He was prepared to carry matters with a high hand ; 


184 


GUY TRESSILIAN’S FATE. 


to assert the rights he had usurped of the heir of Tres- 
silian Court ; and to conquer all opposing circumstances 
by the mere force of his natural audacity. 

He glanced from one to the other of the two figures 
standing side by side at the glazed door, and his brow 
darkened, and a look of suspicion crept into his eyes. 

“ Has he been telling her of the robbery ?” Lowder 
asked himself. “ Has he informed her that I am the 
midnight thief ? He would not have dared tell her so 
after my threat of last night.” 

He greeted Sir Arthur and Blanche courteously. The 
former responded coldly, the latter in an embarrassed 
manner. Purmton and his subordinates made a timely 
appearance with the hot-water dishes and their savory 
contents, and the trio took their seats at the table. v 

The meal progressed almost in silence. As they 
arose from the table at last, Lowder glanced out of a 
window, and said : 

“ This is a fine morning for a walk, Blanche. Will 
you come with me for a ramble along the river bank ?” 

Blanche hesitated a moment, and yielded assent. 
She hurried upstairs to prepare herself for the proposed 
excursion, while Sir Arthur went to his library, and 
Lowder leisurely attired himself in his greatcoat and 
gloves. 

The usurper was standing upon the porch, beating 
an impatient tattoo with his heels, when Blanche. came 
running down the stairs. She had donned a pretty 
blue walking dress, her white astrachan sacque and a 
jaunty turban, and looked as beautiful and lovely as a 
flower or sunlit picture. 

Lowder offered her his arm. Not seeming to notice 
the civility, the girl ran on down the steps and led the 
way lightly across the wide lawn toward the river. 
Lowder followed her with a quick tread. 


DESOLATION. 


185 


The Tressilian estates extended for more than a mile 
along the river bank. There was no road, nor pathway 
by the river, but fields strangely green for December 
crept close to the water’s edge. These fields were sep- 
arated by fences and hedges, but quaint, rustic stiles 
gave passage from one field to another. In summer it 
was one of the finest rambles in the county ; and even 
now, with the green turf springing under the foot, and 
the leaden-hued river flowing past the high, stoned 
bank, it was not devoid of charms. 

Blanche kept in advance until they had traversed the 
extensive lawn, but Lowder was walking at her side 
when she gained the first stile. 

“ It seems to me that you avoid me this morning, 
Blanche,” said Lowder, with some annoyance, as he 
ascended and descended the stile after her. “Your 
manner is scarcely that of a girl to her betrothed hus- 
band. Has — has my father been setting you against 
me ?” 

Blanche turned upon Lowder indignantly. 

“ How can you ask such a question ?” she demanded, 
her gray eyes flashing. 

“ Easily enough,” returned Lowder, quickening his 
steps to match hers “ When I came upon you and him 
in the breakfast-room, I— I fancied that he had been 
saying something to my disadvantage.” 

“If he did, he said nothing but the truth.” 

Lowder’s countenance changed. 

“ He did traduce me, then ?” he cried. “ He told you 
that I had— had committed — ” 

“ A robbery ? No, he did not tell me that. But we 
were speaking of it, notwithstanding,” said Blanche 
calmly. 

Lowder’s face grew inflamed with anger. 

“ Curse him !” he ejaculated. 


186 


GUY TRESSILIAN’S FATE. 


Blanche interrupted his furthur speech by a low. 
shocked cry. 

“ How dare you curse your father, Guy ?” she ex- 
claimed, looking at the usurper with horrified eyes, and 
drawing back from him as if he had been an embodied 
pestilence. “ How dare you speak so to me of the 
noblest, tenderest father that ever lived, and whose 
heart you have pierced with your baseness and wrong- 
doing ? Do you suppose your curse can bring harm upon 
him ? You are not worthy to be his son — not worthy to 
be his servant !” 

“ He has a stanch defender in you,” sneered Lowder. 
“ Pity he can’t hear you. Talk of baseness and treach- 
ery ! He is the basest and most treacherous — ” 

“ Stop !” commanded Blanche, her gray eyes shooting 
lambent fires. “ I will not listen to such words from 
you. Are you not ashamed of yourself? Sir Arthur 
did not tell me you committed the robbery. It was I 
who told him !” 

Lowder stared. He looked incredulous. 

“ Did — did he not first discover it last evening ?” he 
demanded. “ Did he not learn it by overhearing my 
conversation with the Italian ?” 

“ I know nothing of your conversation with any Ital- 
ian. I will tell you the truth. On the night of the rob- 
bery I was wakeful. I heard stealthy steps in the hall, 
and fearing robbers, I put on my dressing-gown with the 
intention of awakening Sir Arthur. I went out into the 
hall, and then I heard steps again. I had only time to 
crouch in the niche behind the bronze Crusader when I 
saw you come out of Sir Arthur’s room with the safe 
key in your hand.” 

Lowder’s face turned livid. 

“You saw me!” he stammered, recoiling. 

“ Yes, I watched you as you sat down in the hall, 


DESOLATION. 


187 


weak and trembling. I saw you go into your room for 
a light. I saw you go down-stairs, and crept after you. 
I witnessed the whole robbery.” 

Lowder gave utterance to a hoarse, wild cry. 

“ I saw you escape with your booty through the 
library window,” continued Blanche mercilessly, in her 
high, excited, indignant voice. “ I crept back to my 
room unseen. And yesterday morning I sent for my 
guardian and told him the truth. You can imagine 
how hard that truth was for him to bear. I pray 
Heaven I may never again witness an anguish like 
his. My own heart bled for him.” 

Lowder’s excitement did not abate. His eyes glowed 
with supernatural lustre, shining like lamps out of the 
pallor of his face. He felt humiliated and angered that 
this girl should have witnessed his crime, should com- 
prehend his baseness, should know so much of his 
real character. 

£< It was yon, then, who put Sir Arthur upon my 
track last evening !” he muttered. “ Did my father 
explain to } T ou this morning my confession — my peni- 
tence ?’* 

“ He explained nothing, save that the money was 
taken to pay a gaming debt.” 

“ It is so,” said Lowder, drooping his head. “ I told 
my father all last night. And he has quite forgiven 
me. The whole affair was but a boyish folly — ” 

“ 1 regret that I cannot look upon the matter also in 
that light,” returned Blanche coldly. 

“ Have you no pity, Blanche ? Do you not see how 
terribly I suffer, in knowing that my error is laid bare 
to you ?” cried Lowder passionately. “ I gambled in 
Naples. I owed a man there two thousand pounds. He 
came to Tressilian Court yesterday, and hounded me 
for the money. My father regards gaming as a crime, 


1S8 


GUY TRESSTLTAn’s FATE. 


and I wished to conceal ray wrong-doing from his eyes. 
1 did not know how to obtain so much money on so 
short a notice. I knew that the sum I wanted was in 
the library safe, intended for my benefit. I did not 
look upon the matter as a robbery. I helped myself to 
what was to be my own.” 

“ And insinuated that Purmton or Paxter, or some of 
the servants had committed the theft !” said Blanche 
in a voice of sarcasm. 

“ Blanche, you drive me to utter desperation. It is 
my first error. I mean it to be my last. Will you 
make the path of right so hard for me to tread ! I 
have acknowledged my guilt. If suffering can atone 
for an error, mine is atoned for. You who never 
told a lie, who never swerved from the straight path of 
honesty and right cannot understand or pity my weak- 
ness — you cannot forgive it.” 

He stood before her in the midst of the field by the 
river bank, the very picture of despair. His convulsed 
features, his bowed head, his clenched hands told of an 
anguish that was not all feigned. In truth he was 
seized with a deadly alarm lest this pure, high-souled 
girl should utterly cast him off. And never until this 
moment had he felt how passionately and entirely he 
loved her. No thought of Hester — poor, gentle, cling- 
ing Hester — came to his perjured soul at this crisis of 
his life. 

His appeal went to the girl’s heart. Her beautiful 
features relaxed, and a pitying look came into her wide 
gray eyes. 

“ I am sorry for you, Guy,” she said. “ Heaven for- 
bid that I should act the Pharisee. If you are truly 
repentant, I have no more words of anger for you.” 

“ I am repentant — I am completely broken-hearted !” 
exclaimed the usurper in a tremulous voice. 


DESOLATION. 


189 


Warm-hearted, generous Blanche came nearer to him 
extending her hand. He raised it to his lips. 

They stood for a few moments on the bank of the 
cold, gray river, watching the sluggish stream. The 
thoughts of the girl were sorrowful ; those of the man 
full of rising triumph. 

Presently they walked on along the river bank toward 
the next field. Blanche was shivering, warmly clad as 
she was, and despite the fact that the day was mild for 
the season. Looking up at the leaden-hued sky, the 
color of the gliding river, it seemed to her that her life, 
that had once seemed so gay and bright, had taken the 
same dull, sad tint. 

At the second stile they halted. This stile was of the 
simplest description, a flight of steps on either side the 
fence, and a landing of some three feet square at the 
top, forming a junction of the two stairs. 

“ You look tired, Blanche,” said Lowder. “Sitdowm 
on the step here. I want to hear you say that you for- 
give me — that you have not ceased to love me.” 

Blanche mounted to the topmost step and sat down. 
Lowder stood before her on the ground, the picture of 
sorrow and regret. He repeated his last words. 

“ I have nothing to forgive, Guy,” the girl said 
gravely. “ You have not sinned against me, but against 
your noble father !” 

“ He has forgiven me. As you say you have nothing 
to forgive, Blanche, let me hear you say you love me !” 

He looked up at her with a passionate eagerness. But 
the lovely face clouded, the sweet grave eyes shone 
with a saddened light, and the tender, scarlet mouth 
quivered with an infinite sorrow. 

“ Guy,” she said gently, “ I cannot speak the words 
you want to hear.” 


190 


GUY TRESSILIAN’S FATE. 


“ This — this accursed business has cost me your love, 
then ?” he demanded savagely. 

“ Guy, I do not know that I have ever loved you,” the 
young girl said, in a tender, pitying voice. “ I will be 
as frank with you as with my own soul. When I used 
to read your letters to Sir Arthur ; when I heard anec- 
dotes of your bravery, your honesty, your truthfulness 
and self-devotion, I fancied you a grand and knightly 
being, an exalted soul — in short, a very hero of romance. 
And when you came home, investing you with all the 
fancied attributes of my ideal Guy, I blushed when you 
spoke to me ; I was flattered by your notice ; I thought 
I loved you. But in the very hour you asked me to 
marry you, I was conscious of a chill sense of disap- 
pointment. My happiness was not what I had expected. 
A vague discontent assailed me.” 

“ You are complimentary !” cried Lowder bitterly. 

“ I am truthful. At times since our betrothal I have 
been very nearly happy, but I have always been unsat- 
isfied and secretly discontented. I discovered some days 
since that I did not love you, Guy, as a wife should love. 
The truth has grown upon me by degrees, but at last I 
know my own heart.” 

“ And you want to throw me over ?” ejaculated Low- 
der, in a savage voice. “ You can make a more brillant 
match, perhaps. I am not a faultless ‘ hero of romance,’ 
and the error I have committed is to be cause sufficient 
to expel me from the pale of virtue forever. You will 
let a little romantic nonsense stand between you and 
me. You could be my guardian angel, my better self, 
my guide, my redemptress — but you coolly decide to 
pass me by ‘ on the other side !’ ” 

“ Oh, Guy ! it is not for this fault I have ceased to 
love you ! In truth, I never loved you !” 

“ And is your promise to go for nothing ? Last night 


DESOLATION. 


191 


my father said to me that he feared you would wish to 
postpone the marriage a year on account of this affair. 
He said you were the daughter of his dead friend, and 
he must protect yon, at whatever cost to himself and 
me. I told him how much I needed your loving influ- 
ence and guidance. He replied that he knew it, but 
there were few women who would sacrifice themselves 
for another. He said he should ask you squarely if you 
had better not postpone the marriage, adding that it 
was his secret prayer and hope that you would stand by 
me and decide to fulfill your engagement. He said that 
my one error should not deprive me of his love, and he 
prayed that Blanche might remain true and steadfast 
to me !” 

The girl’s face grew yet whiter. 

“ Did he say that ?” she asked in a pained voice. 

“ Yes. He said it was his dearest wish to call you his 
daughter. He said that it would be the happiest day in 
his life could he witness our union. He said he would 
feel at ease about my future, my moral character, and 
my reputation, if you would become my wife. Yet, he 
added, he should the rather urge you to a postponement 
of the engagement, desiring to fully do his duty by his 
orphan ward.” 

This plausible lie won Blanche’s perfect credence. 

She buried her face in her little white muff for a few 
moments. Then she said unsteadily : 

“ Guy, I was about to ask you to dissolve our engage- 
ment on the grounds I have stated. But I have changed 
my mind. Sir Arthur’s wishes are sacred to me. I 
know that no son of his could be base at soul. He 
must have transmitted much of his own nobleness to 
you. I have expected too much. I have had notions 
too romantic, perhaps. I do not truly love you, but love 
may come in time. And — and I esteem Sir Arthur so 


192 


GUY TRESSILIAN S FATE. 


highly that I would sacrifice myself to gratify his slight- 
est wish. I will marry you in February, on the day 
appointed !” 

“ And if my father urges you to wait ?” 

“ I shall not let him know that I am aware of his 
secret hopes. I will keep my promise to you. And now, 
Guy, let me return to the Court. It is very cold this 
morning.” 

Lowder helped her down from the stile, his face glow- 
ing with elation. They returned to the Court — he happy 
and triumph, she silent and sorrowful. 

Sir Arthur met them in the hall, and invited Blanche 
into the library. The girl removed her outer wraps and 
sent them up to her room by a servant, then following 
the Baronet into the room designated. 

Lowder, confident in his victory, strolled into the 
drawing room to await the issue of the interview. 

Sir Arthur closed the library door and conducted his 
young ward to a seat by the fire. Drawing a chair near 
to hers, he said : 

“ Has Guy said anything to you about that miserable 
money ?” 

“ Yes, Sir Arthur. He told me how penitent he was. 
He knows now that I witnessed the — the affair.” 

“ I have been thinking, Blanche, that your marriage 
had better be postponed a year or two. I cannot allow 
you to risk your own happiness in this matter. Guy has 
changed strangely. He is not worthy of you.” 

“ There is much good in him — there must be ! He 
is your own son, Sir Arthur, and must have inherited 
many of your noble qualities. I must cling to him. 
Perhaps my influence may be what he needs. I cannot 
utterly condemn him for this one error. I am twenty 
years old— old enough surely to decide in this matter 
for myself. I thank you, dear Guardy, for your solici- 


DESOLATION. 


193 


tnde for my happiness, but I cannot consent to a post- 
ponement of the marriage.” 

“ Take time to consider the subject, Blanche — ” 

“ I need no further time. I have' decided,” said the 
girl wearily. “ Do not pain me by urging me to recon- 
sider my decision. I must marry him at the time 
appointed !” 

“ You love him despite all, Blanche ?” 

The girl’s face flushed painfully. In that flush Sir 
Arthur read his answer. 

“ What a mystery is love !” murmured the Baronet 
huskily. “ In sorrow, in shame, in anguish, it remains 
true and steadfast ! God in heaven bless you, my child, 
for your noble devotion to my son ! And may the man 
you love fulfill all your highest expectations !” 

He laid his hand on her little golden head in blessing. 
Then with a convulsed face he turned from her, cross- 
ing the room, 

The girl arose and moved blindly toward the door — 
her hand sought the door knob with trembling touch, 
and turned it. She went out into the hall, sped up the 
stairs, and locked herself within her own sitting-room. 

And there she fell upon her knees, sobbing wildly : 

“ It is a sacrifice — a terrible sacrifice. I do not love ' 
Guy. 1 do not even respect him. But I will try to 
ennoble him for his father’s sake. I will devote myself 
to elevating him. It is all I can do to repay Sir Arthur 
for all his life-long care and kindness to me. Oh, I have 
been blind — blind ! I have awakened to the truth at last, 
and it crushed me to the very earth. I am engaged to 
Guy and I love Sir Arthur, who looks upon me as a 
child, and who prays that I may have love and courage 
to cling to his son ! How Sir Arthur would scorn me if 
he knew my presumption ! How he would smile at my 


194 


GUT TRESSILIAN’S FATE. 


folly ! It is he who realizes my ideal — whom alone I 
love ! And for his sake I will marry Guy !” 

Her whole frame quivered as with an ague. She 
buried her face in the cushions of her couch, and sobbed 
in a very abandonment of grief. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE SURGEON’S SUCCESS. 

Meanwhile, how fared poor Guy Tressilian ? 

The operation that had been performed upon our 
hero by the great London surgeon had not been unat- 
tended with extreme peril. The greatest skill of Sir 
Windham Winn had been brought into requisition. 
And there had been moments when Tressilian’s life 
had hung in the balance, and it had seemed that the 
merest chance must decide whether he would live or 
die. There had been even one moment when Sir 
Windham had paused from his labors, believing that 
the life, that had flickered under his touch like the light 
of a candle in the wind, had died out entirely. But as 
the chest rose feebly again the surgeon resumed his 
labors, with what result he had himself declared to 
Oil a. 

The girl could hardly comprehend the great sur- 
geon’s success. She had believed Tressilian to be 
dying. And now she was assured that in all probabil- 
ity he would live, and regain the full possession of his 
senses. It seemed a joy too great for belief. 

“ It seems a miracle,” she murmured. “ Oh, Sir 
Windham, he shall thank you himself for saving his 


THE SURGEON S SUCCESS. 


195 


life and his reason. I cannot find words to thank 
you.” 

“ My triumph is sufficient reward,” declared Sir 
Windham, smiling. “ But, Miss Olla, what is this young 
man to you ?” 

“ Nothing, Sir Windham. I have never known him 
when he was in his right mind. I have cared for him 
out of pity — ” 

“ And ‘ pity is akin to love !’ ” said the surgeon. “ He 
is a well looking young fellow. Take care of your 
heart, Miss Olla. These handsome, penniless young 
men are fond of heiresses. There, you need not blush 
so, my child. I did not mean to offend you. Will you 
not come and look in upon our patient ?” 

Olla assented, and shook off the fine snow clinging 
to her figure. Then she followed Sir Windham into 
Tressilian’s chamber. 

A dim light, that of a single candle in a distant cor- 
ner, pervaded the apartment. But the figure in the 
bed was plainly visible. Olla approached the couch 
and studied the face upon the pillow. 

It was as white as the linen against which it lay, and 
the features were as sharply defined as if cut in stone. 
It looked like the face of a dead man, so white, so calm, 
so fixed in its stern repose. The eyelids drooped 
against his cheeks ; his lips were slightly parted. And 
his chest scarcely stirred the clothing above it, as it 
rose and fell in its faint pulsations. 

“ This is life almost like death,” murmured Olla. 

“ He will waken from this sleep in a few hours, and 
in his right mind,” declared Sir Windham. “ Put your 
hand on his forehead.” 

Olla obeyed. There was a slight perspiration upon 
the marble cold brow. 


196 


GUY TRESSILIAN’S FATE. 


They stood a little longer by the couch, and Sir 
Windham said : 

“ Let us go down to the drawing-room. Popley, who 
is behind the curtains at the foot of the bed, will watch 
oar patient, and report any change in him. We must 
guard against every noise in the house.” 

They descended to the drawing-room. Olla issued 
her orders that the house should be kept in a perfect 
silence* and the order was obeyed to the letter. Mrs. 
Popley and Mrs. Kipp sat in the housekeeper’s room 
and talked in whispers. The driver of the post-chaise 
which had brought our travellers to Bleak Top, and Kit 
Kipp, alternated between the stable and the house- 
keeper’s room, and also talked in whispers. 

The evening had fallen early. Night had succeeded 
before the surgical operation had been concluded. It 
was nearly . eight o’clock on the tempestuous winter 
night when Mrs. Popley entered the drawing-room, 
stepping gingerly upon her toes, and announcing in a 
sepulchral whisper that supper waited. 

Sir Windham and Olla crossed the draughty lower 
hall to the dining-room. Here supper was served, of 
game-birds, toasted crumpets, coffee and tea, and vari- 
ous other dainties. The surgeon brought a good appe- 
tite to the meal, and nearly an hour was spent at table, 
at the expiration of which time they returned to the 
drawing-room. 

At ten o’clock Sir Windham looked in upon his patient, 
but no change had occurred in him. Leaving word 
with Popley that he was to be called at the slightest 
indication of a change, the surgeon retired to his own 
chamber and went to bed. 

Olla put v out the fires and lights of the drawing-room 
and hall, and crept upstairs to her own room. It was the 
picture of cheerful coziness. Her dressing-gown and 


THE SURGEONS SUCCESS. 


197 


slippers were warming before the blazing fire ; lights 
were burning ; the curtains were drawn, and Mrs. Pop- 
ley, in list slippers, awaited her with a beaming counten- 
ance. 

“ Everything has gone well, Miss Olla,” said the 
faithful old woman, as Olla softly closed the door. 
“ The young gentleman is in a fine perspiration, and 
his breathing grows louder. It’s as fine a natural sleep 
as one could wish to see. Jim will call me at one 
o’clock, when I’m to watch.” 

“ You must call me if there is a change in him for the 
worse,” said Olla. “ If — if he should die, I must be 
with him. I cannot be persuaded that he is yet out of 
danger. And if he should die, nurse,” she added, in a 
quivering voice, “ his last gaze must be fixed upon the 
sympathizing face of a friend.” 

Mrs. Popley gave the required promise, and Olla, 
wearied with her journey from London and her emo- 
tions, undressed herself, said her prayers, and went to 
bed. 

In half an hour she was soundly asleep. 

The stillness of death was in all the halls and rooms 
of the lonely mountain house. No sound came from 
Tressilian’s room, whether of life or death. At one 
o’clock, when the night was at its stillest within, but 
wildest without, and the old stone house seemed to rock 
in the mighty gale, Mrs. Popley stole to the sick man’s 
chamber, releasing her son from his wearisome vigil. 

The night wore on, and still Tressilian lay in that 
trance-like slumber. The dawn broke at last, and sub- 
dued sounds of life were heard in the kitchen, but he 
did not arouse. 

At seven o’clock — it was barely daylight then — Sir 
Windham Winn tapped gently at the door, and as softly 
entered the room. 


198 


GUY TRESSILIAN’S FATE. 


“ There is no change, sir !” whispered Mrs. Popley. 

“ What ! He has not awakened yet !” returned the 
surgeon, his face changing. “ I must see to him !” 

He glided to the bed, and bent over Tressilian feel- 
ing his pulse. It was low, but regular. 

As he raised his glance from his watch, Tressilian’s 
eyes opened, and were fixed upon him in an inquiring 
expression. The gaze was that of a sane man. 

The surgeon’s heart, bound up in his profession, 
throbbed with joy. He knew how near the gates of 
death Tressilian had been, and he regarded his opera- 
tion as a very triumph of surgery. 

Tressilian’s lips moved feebly. 

“ Who are you he whispered. 

“ I am the surgeon, Sir Windham Winn. Don’t 
bother yourself, young man. Just take things as they 
come. You are among friends. That is all you need 
to know for the present.” 

Tressilian smiled faintly, and his eyes closed wearily. 

“ Here, Mrs. Popley,” said Sir Windham, “ have a 
basin of gruel made directly.” 

“ It is made already,” returned the woman. “ It has 
been waiting an hour, but I began to think it would 
never be wanted.” 

She hurried out silently, presently returning with a 
bowl of gruel. Sir Windham took the tray from her, 
sat down upon the side of the bed, and proceeded to 
feed his patient with the tenderness of a woman . 

“There!” he exclaimed at last. “You feel better 
now, with half a pint of gruel to give you strength. By 
to-morrow you shall have chicken broth, but your pro- 
motion depends upon your improvement.” 

Again Tressilian smiled. Then his eyes wandered 
from the face of the rough, kindly surgeon, searching 
the room with an expectant gaze. 


THE SURGEON’S SUCCESS. 


199 


“Who are you looking for ?” asked Sir Windham. 

“ Perhaps it was only a dream,” murmured Tressilian 
faintly. “ But I had a vision of a young girl — beautiful, 
lovely, tender. I want her. Is there no young girl 
here ?” 

“ You mean Olla !” 

Guy repeated the name of Olla in a sort of rapture. 

“ The name comes straight to my lips,” he murmured. 
“ Her name is Olla. I want her. Olla !” he added 
dreamily, and in tender accents. “ Olla !” 

“ Olla will come in presently. You have been very 
ill, young man. You owe life, reason, everything to 
Olla ! Had she not taken care of you, protected you, 
pitied you, you would to-day have been an idiot or a 
corpse !” 

In his admiration of Olla, the good surgeon had said 
more than he intended. But the effect of his words 
upon Tressilian had not been hurtful. The pale, wan 
face brightened, the glorious blue eyes flamed with 
gratitude and tenderness, and a smile of exquisite beauty 
curved his lips. 

“ I shall never forget what I owe Olla !” he murmured. 
“ Never !” 

And with the words yet on his lips he again dropped 
asleep. 

“ He’ll do now,” said the surgeon heartily. “Another 
sleep is what he wants. Is Miss Olla below?” 

Mrs. Popley answered in the affirmative, and Sir 
Windham descended to the drawing-room. Olla was 
there, and came eagerly to meet him. 

“ Has he wakened ?” she asked. 

“ Yes, and has had his breakfast. He is doing better 
even than I expected. He is himself again. 1 will give 
you directions for his treatment. As for me, I must 
return to town to-day.” 


200 


GUY TRESSILIAN’s FATE. 


“ So soon ? Are you sure he can spare you yet ?” 

“ Quite sure. I am needed in town, and I dare not 
delay my return. See how the snow is falling- !” 

Olla glanced from the window. The snow flakes 
were falling thickly. 

“To-morrow the mountain road may be impassible,” 
said Sir Windham. “ I must order the post-chaise at 
once. My patient is out of danger, and a good nurse is 
all that is wanted now.” 

Olla expressed her regrets at losing the surgeon so 
soon, and then went out to order the post-chaise for Sir 
Windham’s return journey to Alnwick. The surgeon 
occupied himself in her absence by writing out an 
ample list of directions for the care of the invalid upon 
a leaf of his note-book, and this he tore out and gave 
the young girl on her return. 

“ I have here provided against all contingencies of 
fever and other drawbacks,” he said. “ Should any 
serious change occur for the worse, telegraph to me. 
And should that rascally Gower make you any trouble, 
let me know. I have left all necessary medicines, but 
he needs little doctor stuff. What he wants is, as I said 
before, good nursing and a generous diet as soon as he 
can bear it, which will be in a day or two.” 

Breakfast was announced at this moment. Olla led 
the way to the cozy dining-room, and Sir Windham 
attacked his repast with energy. In the course of the 
meal he told Olla of Tressilian’s inquiries for her, 
at the narration of which the young girl blushed rosily. 

The driver of the post-chaise had already breakfasted 
some time since, and by the time Sir Windham had 
finished his repast the carriage rolled out of the stable- 
yard, and the horses were driven around to the carriage 
porch. 

The surgepn hastened to wrap himself for the jour- 


SNOWED IN. 


201 


ney. Mrs. Popley brought him a small hamper of food 
and wine to mitigate the cold and loneliness of the 
drive. Adieux were said, and Sir Windham Winn 
entered the waiting vehicle, and was hurried away, soon 
disappearing behind a vail of falling snow and going 
down the mountain side. 

As Olla stood on the porch looking thoughtfully after 
him, Mrs. Kipp, who was near and anxiously scanning 
the dull gray sky, exclaimed : 

“ The surgeon has got away just in time, Miss Olla. 
And it’s lucky we’ve laid in such a stock of provisions. 
We shall need them. And if that Mr. Gower is on his 
way here,” she added grimly, “ he’ll have to come 
before noon. See how the snow falls ! We are going 
to be snowed in.” 

The prophecy seemed in a fair way of fulfillment. 
The ground was covered thickly with snow, and the 
great feathery flakes were falling fast and faster in a 
white impenetrable vail. The process of “ snowing in ” 
the occupants of lonely Bleak Top had surely com- 
menced. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

SNOWED IN. 

During the remainder of the day on which Sir Wind- 
ham Winn, the great London surgeon, departed from 
Bleak Top, the snow continued to fall silently and heav- 
ily, filling the air with its dense whiteness. During the 
night there was no abatement of the snow fall. And 
during the second day and night the feathery flakes fell 
ceaselessly, and the white whirlwinds formed by the 


GUY TRESSILIAN 8 FATP]. 


202 J 

light snow and the wind shut out from the gaze of 
the dwellers at Bleak Top all view of the outside world. 

No one, excepting the housekeeper’s son, ventured 
outside the doors of the mountain house while the storm 
continued. Christopher Kipp ploughed his way to the 
cow-house and stable at regular periods, to see that the 
dumb-beasts did not suffer for food and water ; but for 
the most part he sat by the kitchen fire, or in his 
mother’s room. Popley remained in charge of Tressil- 
ian, but his cares were shared with his mother and his 
young mistress, who proved herself the tenderest and 
gentlest of nurses. 

The great feature of in-door life while the storm 
raged was the magnificent wood fires that burned and 
glowed on every hearth in the draughty old house. 
And while Nature was weaving her wintry shroud for 
the dying year, and wearing an aspect of utter dreari- 
ness and desolation, all was brightness, warmth and 
glow within the walls of Bleak Top. 

Upon the morning of the third day after Sir Wind- 
ham’s departure, the prophecy of good Mrs. Kipp was 
accomplished. The inmates of the lonely mountain 
house were snowed in. 

And upon that morning the snow ceased falling. The 
air was chill and cold ; the sky gray and wintry, with no 
promise of warmth or thaw ; and the wind was like a 
blast fresh from the North Pole. 

Oil a, coming out of her room at the usual hour, on 
her way down to breakfast, with a shawl drawn over 
her head and shoulders, paused to look from the wide 
window at the end of the windy hall upon the picture 
so novel to her eyes. 

There was a patch or snow on the hall carpet, and a 
bed of snow lay on the broad window ledge. The 
panes were covered with frost pictures, through whose 


SNOWED IN. 


203 


fantastic images no vision could pass. Olla breathed 
upon the glass, rubbing it with her handkerchief, and 
presently was rewarded with a loop-hole of observation, 
as it might be called — a clear bit of glass as large as a 
crown piece. 

Through this small outlook she beheld a scene that 
might have been taken up bodily out of Switzerland, 
and dropped on this lonely Scottish border. 

Near and far, wherever her eye could see, lay the 
dazzling sheet of snow. The road that led past Gloam 
Fell, Hester Lowder’s refuge, down to the hamlet of 
Gloamvale, could not be distinguished save by huge 
drifts through which no track had been made. 
The fences dividing the fields and sheep pastures, 
and the hedges about Bleak Top, were many of them 
completely buried under the snow. The trees border- 
ing the drive, the larches and northern firs, were 
weighted heavily with lines of snow that lay evenly on 
every branch and twig. In the distance Carter Fell 
stood grimly outlined against the sky, under a crown 
and mantle of snow. Nearer, the old farm-house of 
Gloam Fell and the dwellings in the hamlet of Gloam - 
ville peered darkly out from under heavy thatches of 
the snow, reminding one of the darkly withered face of 
an old French woman under her white Norman cap. 

“ It is like a fairy scene,” breathed Olla. “ Snow 
everywhere — a snow world ! I see no roads, no paths. 
The snow will be a better guardian to us than any man. 
I feel now that I can defy Mr. Gower — that, so long as 
the snow lasts, l am safe from his intrusion.” 

The thought afforded her a strange feeling of secur- 
ity. Isolated by the great drifts from the outside world, 
she felt as if she were in a fortress as impregnable as 
any castle of feudal times. 

This feeling continued for several days, for the 


204 


GUY TRESSILIAN’S FATE. 


intense cold continued, the snow did not thaw, and by 
Olla’s command, no road was broken down to the valley. 
The old stone house on the mountain summit was 
indeed isolated from the rest of the world. No breath 
came to them of the events transpiring elsewhere. Not 
a hint of life outside penetrated to their retreat. Olla 
kept up her great hospitable fires in every hall and 
inhabited room ; Mrs. Kipp and Mrs. Popley vied with 
each other in delicate preparations for the table of 
their young mistress and the palate of the invalid ; and 
an air of gayety and brightness pervaded every room of 
the mansion. 

And how fared Tressilian during all these days ? 

From the hour in which he had awakened from his 
long trance-like sleep, before the departure of Sir 
Windham Winn, he had entered upon his convales- 
cence. 

As his physical strength had not been drained from 
him by slow and wasting disease, as his weakness and 
lethargy had been the result of his mental illness, and 
not of bodily ailment, so now, the pressure upon his 
brain being removed, his recovery was rapid. 

Olla, in company with Mrs. Popley, attended upon him 
regularly. She sat at first silently by his side, anticipat- 
ing his wants, but as he grew stronger she read to him 
tender poems, she sang to him sweet old ballads, and 
talked to him upon all unexciting subjects. Tressilian’s 
identity was never mentioned, and he had not yet 
spoken of himself. 

It was pleasant to see Tressilian’s dependence upon 
the slender young girl. He begged for her presence 
almost continually. He would not eat unless she carved 
his food. In her absence he was silent and sad, tor- 
tured by a host of uneasy thoughts. When she was 
near he was also silent, but his face was radiant with a 


SNOWED IN. 


205 


joy and satisfaction beyond the power of words to 
describe. 

One afternoon, a week after the arrival of the party at 
Bleak Top, and while the snow blockade was still in full 
force, Olla went up to Tressilian’s room after an early 
dinner, according to her usual custom In response 
to her low knock upon the door, Mrs. Popley’s voice 
bade her enter, and she went in. 

Her first glance was, as usual, toward the bed, but 
Tressilian was not there. Turning, bewildered, she 
found him sitting in a great easy-chair at the corner of 
the hearth, his feet on the fender. He was fully dressed 
in a suit of black clothing Popley had purchased for 
him at Marseilles, and his feet were encased in slippers. 
A large white blanket covered the chair completely, 
screening him from draughts. 

He was very pale and very thin. His great lumin- 
uous blue eyes shone like stars from out the pallor 
of his countenance. His tawny beard had been freshly 
trimmed by Popley, who had dressed him, and his 
sunny hair was tossed carelessly back from his wide 
white forehead. Despite the traces of recent and terri- 
ble illness, he had never looked brighter or handsomer. 

He looked up at Olla in smiling deprecation. 

“ Don’t look so grave, Olla,” he said. “ I am not at 
all imprudent. I am stronger than I look. Popley 
agreed that I was quite well enough to be up and 
dressed.” 

“ He is indeed, Miss Olla,” confirmed Popley. “ It is 
better for him to be up than to be in bed so restless. 
And if he keeps on improving, he will be able to go 
down to dinner to-morrow.” 

A faint shadow crept over Olla’s lovely face. To her, 
Tressilian’s recovery meant his separation from her. 
She would gladly have kept him as he was for a while 


206 


GUY TRESSILIAn’s FATE. 


longer, the thought of his going away from her giving 
her a pang like a knife thrust. 

Conquering the pain, she smiled as she said : 

“ I am glad you are so much better, Jasper. Your 
recovery must be rapid now.” 

“ It will be. Draw your chair beside me, Olla. I 
want to talk with you.” 

Popley withdrew, going down to the kitchen for his 
dinner. Mrs. Popley took her sewing to a distant win- 
dow, and ensconced herself in the light. Olla pushed a 
low chair near to Tressilian, and sat down beside him. 

“I want to talk to you of myself this afternoon,” 
Tressilian said, reaching out and taking her hand. 
“ Oh, Olla ! how shall I ever thank you enough for 
all you have done for me ? Sir Windham Winn told 
me that I owed my life and reason to you ! How shall 
I ever repay my debt of gratitude to you ?” 

He pressed her hand to his lips, kissing it with a ten- 
der passionateness, a deep and holy reverence. 

“ Do not speak to me of gratitude, Jasper,” said the 
girl, flushing under his passionate gaze. 

“ Gratitude is too cold a word,” he sighed, clinging to 
her hand. “ Oh, Olla ! I could worship you when I think 
from what you have saved me. So noble, so tender, so 
true ! I know all about you, Olla. I questioned Popley 
yesterday when you were at dinner, and he told me all 
your history. How could one, with such trials as yours, 
take upon herself a burden like me ? Yours is a brave 
and noble soul, Olla — the bravest and noblest I ever 
knew !” 

Again he kissed her hand silently. As Olla did not 
replj 7 , he presently resumed : 

“ As I said, I know all about you, Olla. I know of 
your self-sacrifice and tenderness to a helpless stranger. 
But what do you know of me ? I did not question Pop- 


SNOWED IN. 


207 


ley concerning myself, for I desire to hear what you 
knew of me from your own lips.” 

Thus questioned, Olla told him frankly all she knew 
of him, commencing her narrative with an account of 
her own flight from her guardian at Naples. She told 
how she had fled to Palermo ; how she had been pursued 
by Mr. Gower, who had removed her to the Villa Bella 
Vista, upon the Bay of Palermo. She told how she had 
discovered Tressilian at the Vicini cottage, upon one of 
her rambles ; how she had become interested in him ; 
how he had once visited her at Mr. Gower’s villa ; and 
how, when she fled from Sicily, she had made him a 
sharer in her flight. She described the journey to 
Naples ; the Vesuvius Inn and its keepers ; the hurried 
journey toward Termoli ; the capture by brigands ; the 
brigand Doctor’s experimenting operation upon Tres- 
silian’s wound ; the rescue by Neapolitan troops, and the 
journey to England, with the accompanying incidents, 
and the few events that had followed. 

“ I remember the brigand’s cavern, and your noble 
and spirited conduct there,” said Tressilian thought- 
fully. “ I also remember the journey to England, but 
after our arrival at the Victoria Hotel all is a blank. 
Where are we now, Olla ?” 

“ In Northumberland, among the Cheviot Hills, and 
upon the Scottish border ! This mountain is Bleak Moun- 
tain ; this house is known as Bleak Top. It belongs to 
me !” 

“ What a strange experience mine has been !” said 
Tressilian. “ Shipwrecked — wounded — imbecile — and 
saved by the noble devotion of a young girl. But for 
you I should have died there. Olla ! Do you know 
whom I am ?” 

“ Oh, yes, Jasper,” said Olla, arising and taking down 
a small parcel from the mantel-piece. “ If we had not 


208 


GUY TRESSILTAN’S FATE. 


known otherwise, these relics would have told us. 
Look !”" 

She unfastened the packet and laid upon his knees 
the articles that had been found upon his person, and 
which Mrs. Vicini had been careful to leave upon him. 
They consisted of a small note-book, a portmonnaie, a 
pocket-knife and a handkerchief, all bearing within or 
upon them the name of Jasper Lowder. 

Tressilian turned them over, recognizing them at 
once. 

“ You found these upon me ?” he questioned, in sur- 
prise. 

“ Popley found them in your pockets, Jasper.” 

“You call me Jasper. Why ?” 

A vague alarm looked from Olla’s dusky eyes. 

“ Have you forgotten your own name, Jasper?” she 
asked, in a tremulous, pleading voice. “ Have you for- 
gotten that you are Jasper Lowder, and that you were 
the travelling companion of a wealthy young English- 
man.” 

Guy started, his eyes dilating. 

“ Tell me of him,” he exclaimed excitedly — “ of my 
travelling companion ! He perished in the wreck ? 
Poor, noble fellow !” 

“ No ; he did not perish. He was but little injured. 
He remained with you that first night at the Vicini 
cottage. He had a consultation with Dr. Spezzo the 
next day, and the doctor told him that your recovery 
was impossible. He did everything that was possible 
for your comfort, but his friends were expecting him, 
and he was obliged to hurry on to England.” 

“ His friends ? He had no friends ! Why did he 
desert me among strangers ? Why did he not bring 
me back to England ?” 

“Because, Jasper, as you had no friends or relatives 


SNOWED IN. 


209 


living — no one to care for you — he thought it would be 
better for you to remain in Sicily." 

“ No friends ! No relatives ! I don’t understand. 
Did he not write to my father ?” 

“ He said you had no relatives — no father, Jasper," 
Olla answered soothingly. “ He was very kind, as 
kind as any brother. He gave every direction for your 
comfort, and left money for your expenses. As you 
were friendless, he said it would be better to drag out 
your blighted life in that secluded spot, and in the care 
of these kindly peasants. He said there was no reason 
why you should ever leave Sicily.” 

“ He said that ?” 

Olla was alarmed by the fire in Tressilian’s eyes ; 
the excitement of his manner. 

“Hush, Jasper,” she pleaded. “He ought to have 
taken you to England and procured a first-class surgeon 
for you ; but do not blame him as selfish. Remember 
that these wealthy young men are taught oftentimes to 
consider themselves -above all others. He is the son of 
a Baronet, and was impatient to get home.” 

Tressilian's blue eyes burned with a strange light. 

“ Who did you say he was ?” he asked. 

“ Oh, Jasper ! Do you not remember ?” cried Olla. 
“ You know that he is Guy Tressilian, son of Sir 
Arthur Tressilian of Tressilian Court!” 

Tressilian uttered a hoarse cry. His face fairly 
blazed with excitement. Like a flash the whole truth 
burst upon his soul. Lowder had thought him an idiot 
beyond cure, and, taking advantage of the singular like- 
ness between them, had gone to England and assumed 
the name and place of Guy Tressilian ! 

“ I see ! I see !” he murmured. “And — he — is now 1 
at Tressilian Court ?” 

“ Yes, Jasper. Sir Windham Winn said that Mr. Guy 


210 


GUY TRESSILIAN’s FATE. 


Tressilian had returned some time since from abroad. 
Certainly he is at Tressilian Court. Where should he 
be if not with his father ?” 

Tressilian gasped for breath like a drowning man . 

“ The villain ! The dastardly traitor ! The false 
friend ! The base thief !” he hissed, while his blue 
eyes blazed with an awful sternness. “ The — ” 

“Jasper! Mr. Lowder ! Be quiet, in Heaven’s 
name ! This excitement may injure you !” cried Olla, 
in a terrible alarm. 

Tressilian did not seem to hear her. 

“ He bent over me as I lay on the beach !” he said 
excitedly. “ He thought me dead or dying. Oh, I see 
it all ! Even in that awful moment of terror and ship- 
wreck, he dai'ed to plan a crime. He stole the papers 
and diary and other articles from my person, substitut- 
ing these things of his ! The treacherous schemer !” 

“Oh, Jasper!” moaned Olla, in her terror. “Be 
calm. What is it excites you so ? Jasper — ” 

Tressilian waved his hands in a wild gesture, dis- 
claiming the name with utter loathing. 

“ He is Lowder!” he cried — “Jasper Lowder! I 
picked him up at Baden. I believed him an honest, 
poor young fellow, who had left England in order to get 
a living by teaching his native language in Germany. 
How I trusted him ! How I loved him ! And how he 
has cheated and deceived me ! It seems as though I 
should go mad !” 

Poor Olla began to fear that her charge had indeed 
gone mad. Forgetful of everything in her anxiety for 
him, she arose and leaned over him. She let her cool 
soft hands drop gently on his head, in a little shower 
of pats and strokes, that soothed him like the long-for- 
gotten caresses of his dead mother. 


SNOWED IN. 


211 


“ Hush ! Oh, hush !” she pleaded. In mercy to your- 
self and me, be calm !” 

There was a bitter and awful calmness in Tressilian’s 
voice, as he exclaimed : 

“ Be calm, while that villain has taken my place in 
my father’s heart ! I have been near to death, I have 
been an imbecile, but my father has not known my 
peril. No instinct has told him that Jasper Lowder is 
not his son. He has stolen my name and friends and 
patrimony, and left me to perish among strangers. 
How can I be calm, Olla ? The wretch whose plausible 
seeming won my faith and love, whose resemblance to 
me has deceived my own father who has not seen me 
for years — he is the real Jasper Lowder. And I — I am 
Guy Tressilian !” 

Despite the strangeness of Tressilian’s tones and 
manner, there was that in his looks that confirmed his 
assertion. After her first shock of surprise, Olla gave 
his declaration full credence. 

She moved shyly from his chair, returning to her 
own seat. 

“ And you are Guy Tressilian ?” she murmured. 

“ Yes ; I am the only son of Sir Arthur Tressilian.” 

“ What is to be done ?” asked Olla, looking out of the 
window upon the great impassable snow-drifts. “ The 
roads must be broken. We must telegraph to Sir 
Arthur — ” 

“Not so,” interposed Guy, with a natural' bitterness. 
“ Let me stay here until I am well. My father has 
never missed me. He has taken that treacherous fel- 
low to his heart in my stead. I will not go to Tressilian 
Court until I am more like my old self. Who knows 
but I should be turned out as an impostor ?” he added, 
with a bitter smile. 

“ You shall stay, Guy ; and you shall go to Tressilian 


212 


GUT TRESSILIAN S FATE. 


Court unannounced, and confound this Lowder, when 
you get well,” cried Olla, with spirit. “ But do not 
blame your father for accepting this impostor as his 
son. I know that he is not satisfied with him. Nature 
will not permit your father to give to him the love that 
belongs to you. It will be the happiest day of Sir 
Arthur’s life when you return to him and claim your 
own. You must exert yourself to get back your 
strength as soon as possible, Guy ; for with your 
strength will come your happiness.” 

Tressilian looked full upon the bright, arch, glowing 
face, so glorious in its rare beauty, and thought within 
himself, with a passionate glow at his heart : 

“ But one thing can give me happiness. I cannot 
marry Blanche, as my father desires. It seems as if I 
had known Olla for years ; and I love her better than 
home, father, or friends. Beautiful, precious Olla ! 1 

will not leave this place till she promises to be my wife. 
But will she marry a man whom she first knew as an 
imbecile, and whom she cared for out of charity ? 
What would she think if she knew that my gratitude to 
her has yielded to love — the love a man feels but once, 
and then forever ?” 

But not yet did he dare put his hopes into words. 


CHAPTER XX. 

AN INTERCEPTED LETTER. 

Sir Arthur Tressilian’s secret dissatisfaction with his 
supposed son increased, instead of diminished, as the 
days went by. The affair of the robbery, and Lowder’s 
baseness in attempting to throw suspicion upon the 


AN INTERCEPTED LETTER. 


213 


Baronet’s servants, was continually in bis mind. The 
suspicion grew upon him that the money had not been 
stolen from his safe to pay any gaming debt, but rather 
to purchase Palestro’s secrecy in regard to some past 
event. The Italian’s promise to write weekly to Low- 
der recurred to him, confirming this suspicion. He felt 
that there was some mystery about his pretended son, 
but as yet no glimmer of the truth, however faint, came 
to comfort his anguished soul. 

Gradually, studying Lowder keenly and closely, he 
grew to believe the young man guilty of some crime 
while on the Continent. It was a terrible belief to 
grow in the heart of a father toward his son, and, as we 
have said, Sir Arthur had no suspicion that Lowder was 
not his son. And what that crime was the Baronet 
was determined to know before he yielded into the 
usurper’s hands the future, whether for weal or woe, of 
pure, noble, golden-haired Blanche. 

As may be imagined, there was no longer any warmth 
in the heart of Sir Arthur toward his supposed son. 
The young man’s want of common honor, honesty and 
truthfulness had stifled the last spark of kindly feeling 
the Baronet may have felt toward him. A feeling of 
loathing began to grow up in Sir Arthur’s heart toward 
Lowder, and strive as he would, he could not conquer 
or uproot it. 

Lowder was not conscious of the change in the Bar- 
onet’s feelings toward him. All his energies were bent 
to the task of reinstating himself in the good opinion of 
Blanche, which, he feared, he had greatly jeopardized 
in the late matter of the robbery. He told her a hun- 
dred times that his future depended upon her ; that 
she had it in her power to make him honored, or to 
drive him to recklessness and ruin. He adjured her, 
by her love of her guardian, to cling to and save her 


214 


GUY TRESSILIAN S FATE. 


guardian’s son. He coined a score of lying tales of 
what her guardian had said concerning the proposed 
marriage, and Blanche believed him. ‘Believing him, 
she consented that the preparations for the marriage 
should go on. Believing that Sir Arthur desired above 
all things to behold her the wife of his son, she was 
ready to sacifice herself for the sake of making happier 
the guardian she secretly loved. 

One evening Sir Arthur lingered at the lamp-lit din- 
ner-table after Blanche and Lowder had departed to 
the drawing-room. The Baronet was thoughtful, 
gloomy. His disappointment in his supposed son, his 
anxieties of various sorts, weighed heavily upon him. 
The idea that there was something wrong about Low- 
der preyed upon him, and he was wondering what steps 
he should take to learn the truth. 

“ I ought to have detained that Palestro,” he thought. 
“ Had it not been for the shame and anguish of mydis 
covery that Guy was the robber who had stolen my 
money, I should have been keener to deal with the 
Italian. But that discovery seemed to paralyze my 
energies. Why did he agree to write to Guy weekly? 
What will he write about ?” 

He was considering these questions when the butler, 
portly old Purmton, came in with a small leather letter- 
bag, which had just been brought from the post-office. 
Glad of a relief from his thoughts, Sir Arthur unlocked 
the bag with a small key that hung from his watch- 
chain, and devoted himself to the examination of its 
contents. 

There were his London daily journals ; a couple of 
favorite weeklies ; a stock journal. These the Baronet 
tossed aside, as he discovered several letters. One of 
these, a small square envelope, with a very large mono- 
gram, was addressed to “ Miss Blanche Irby.” Sir Arthur 


AN INTERCEPTED LETTER. 


215 


put it aside, and glanced over his own missives. These 
were four in number. One of them was from his banker 
in London, acknowledging the receipt of sundry funds. 
A second was from the secretary of a railway company, 
calling his attention to some matter which concerned 
him as a director. The third was from the secretary of 
a tin mine in Wales, in which Sir Arthur had stock, 
giving him notice of a proposed declaration of dividends. 
The fourth letter was from a London tradesman, and 
concerned an order the Baronet had given a fortnight 
earlier for a set of sapphires, intended as a bridal gift 
to his ward, to supplement the present of the Tressilian 
diamonds. 

Sir Arthur glanced at them all, and laid them on the 
table, sighing heavily. As he did so, he noticed a very 
thin, foreign looking letter, which had slipped unseen 
between the folds of the stock journal, and was now 
barely visible. He withdrew this letter from its half 
concealment, saw that it was addressed “ to the young 
Sir Tressilian,” and tore it open. 

Its contents, written upon a sheet of flimsy blue- 
tinted paper, were written in bad Italian, a translation 
of which would read as follows : 

lt Naples, Dec. 7th, 1867. 

“ To the young Sir Tresolino : There is bad news. 
You will not expect to hear from me for a week, and 
will not look for a letter at Gloucester at the false 
address. And in a week all may be lost. The brigand 
band of the Red Carvelli is broken up. Their secret 
retreats are laid waste. The Red Carvelli is condemned 
to die. And worst of all, for you and me, he has escaped. 
The young Inglesa is his protector. They have gone to 
England. Be warned. Be on your guard. I will write 


216 


GUY TRESSILIAn’s FATE. 


to the false address by same post, and in that letter will 
give a plan to get rid of him for ever. 

“ Accept, Milord, the gracious homage of your unwor- 
thy servant, “ Jacopo Palestro.” 

Sir Arthur read this strange letter again and again. 
He examined the Naples post mark, and studied the 
handwriting, even while he pondered upon the contents 
of the letter. 

He comprehended, of course, that the letter had been 
written for the eyes of Lowder, and for his eyes alone. 
But he had no regret for having opened it. To the con- 
trary, he believed that this letter, rightly studied, might 
help him to some conclusion in regard to the character 
of his supposed son. 

“ It is very odd !” he said to himself. “ Guy is in the 
habit of receiving letters from this fellow at the Glou- 
cester post-office, and to an assumed address. That 
must be because the Italian writes something Guy is 
afraid to have come here. What can it be ?” 

He gave considerable thought to the question, and 
could only come to the conclusion that these letters con- 
cerned the mystery which he was fully pursuaded had 
originated somewhere in the past career of his sup- 
posed son. 

“ Guy has done something in regard to which he has 
to buy this Palestro’s silence,” he thought. “But what 
have brigands to do with my son ? Can he have been 
their friend ? And who is the he who has escaped ? 
And why does his coming to England threaten evil to 
Guy ? Is he some partner in a crime with my son ? 
Can Guy have secretly married while abroad ? What is 
his secret ?” 

The problem, as presented to Sir Arthur, was dark 
and difficult enough. For some time it tortured the 


AN INTERCEPTED LETTER. 


217 


soul of the noble Baronet At last, unable to bear inac- 
tion longer, he gathered up his letters and papers, dis- 
patched Blanche’s letter to her by a servant and made 
his way to the deeper solitude of his library. 

Here again he studied the mysterious contents of the 
letter he had so strangely intercepted. 

But, study as he would, he could not quite compre- 
hend its sinister meaning. Not yet did a glimmering 
suspicion of the truth assail his soul. More than ever 
before, he felt an incubus gathering upon his heart 
and brain, and suffered with added force from a sense 
of coming evil. A cold dew broke out on his forehead. 
His form trembled. His soul was sick within him. 

“ How Guy has changed since the old days ?” he 
thought wearily. “ How unlike his sentiments are to 
those expressed in his letters ! The change in him 
grows upon me daily and hourly. Why did I send him 
abroad years ago ? Why did I let him remain abroad so 
long ? I fancied that he would love my little Blanche 
all the better if he never saw her until he had grown to 
manhood. I fancied that if they met often in youth 
their love would be fraternal. Yet would to God they 
had thus met and thus regarded each other. This man, 
son of mine though he is, is not worthy of that tender, 
pure, true hearted young soul. And she regards him 
as noble though erring, and feels for him a pity that 
leads all other emotions. She cannot forget what he 
has been. I cannot give her to him. And I cannot 
prevent their marriage, and thus blight her passionate 
adoration of him. What am I to do ?’ 

He covered his face with his hands, and sat mute and 
motionless, as if turned to stone. 

The time passed. The little French clock on the 
mantel-piece struck the hour of ten. Then Sir Arthur 
arose and looked around him with a weary, haggard face, 


218 


GUY TRESSILIAN S FATE. 


and with eyes whose pleasant, kindly gleam was lost in 
an expression so sad, so wildly questioning, as to be 
absolutely startling. 

“ I must go in to them,” he said wearily. “ They will 
wonder at my absence. When Blanche retires, I will 
have a talk with Guy.” 

He picked up the letter from the floor, restored it to 
its envelope, and thrust it into the breast pocket of his 
coat. Then he moved wearily from the room. 

Crossing the wide hall, he went into the drawing- 
room, entering upon a scene so bright and pleasant and 
charming to look upon, that one who knew not his 
secret and his anxieties would have wondered at the 
strange grayish pallor that overspread his face as he 
gazed upon the young couple, who were sitting very 
near to each other. 

The great wide drawing-room was all aglow with 
the mellow lamplight, and the dancing, flickering play 
of the flames in the big grate. Blanche sat at the 
corner of the hearth, her pretty golden head shining, 
her little face all alight, and yet her keen-eyed, noble- 
hearted guardian saw, what the false Guy did not see, a 
vague wistfulness and yearning in her azure eyes, a 
vague, unrest and dissatisfaction in the quivering smile 
on her lips. 

The pretender sat on a low hassock at her feet. One 
of his hands lay on her knee clasping hers. He was 
looking up into her face with an unmistakable devotion. 
It was plain that he loved her. 

Blanche looked up as her guardian entered, and 
flashed up at him a bright, welcoming glance. It was 
•evident even to Sir Arthur that she was glad of his 
coming. 

Lowder looked up also, but with an expression of 


AN INTERCEPTED LETTER. 


219 


annoyance. In his own mind he anathematized Sir 
Arthur for his inopportune appearance. 

“ Where have you been all the evening, Sir Arthur ?” 
asked Blanche, making room for him on the little sofa 
beside her, and withdrawing her hand from that of 
Lowder. “We have seen nothing of you since din- 
ner !” 

“ You have missed me then ?” asked the Baronet sit- 
ting down beside her. 

“ Missed you ! Indeed we have ; haven’t we, Guy ?” 

“ I cannot say that I have,” said Lowder. “ When I 
am with you, Blanche, I have no thought of any one 
else.” 

Blanche blushed so rosily, in spite of the fact that she 
was not pleased, that Sir Arthur’s gray pallor deepened, 
and a keen pain shot through his heart. He turned 
away his face, while a sneering smile curved the lips of 
the false Guy. 

“ Guy and I have been recalling old times,” said 
Blanche. “ That seems to be a resource suitable to 
long winter evenings. Would you believe it, Guardy, 
he doesn’t remember the time when the black filly ran 
away with me at Irby Hall, and when he saved me at 
risk of his own life ? Is it modesty, do you think,” 
she added gayly, “ that causes him to forget a feat like 
that ?” 

“ I should not think he could forget it, when the noble 
act so nearly cost him his life !” said the Baronet. 

“ And especially when he will carry the scar of it to 
his grave !” said Blanche, her eyes filling suddenly with 
tears, forgetting the present in that far past. “ The 
doctor said he would carry that mark on his wrist, 
where he was cut when the filly flung him on a pile of 
stones after I was rescued, to his grave. Oh, Guy, when 
I have thought all these years of that scar made for 


220 


GUY TRESSILIAN’S FATE. 


me — the sign of a life imperilled for my sake — you have 
seemed to me greater than any knight or paladin of 
old. You have been to me a type of a hero, the noblest, 
the grandest — ” 

“ And now, how are the mighty fallen !” muttered 
Lowder. 

Blanche uttered a half sob. The next moment, lean- 
ing over him in her old childlike, impetuous, charming 
way, she exclaimed : 

“ Guy, let me look at that scar. The doctor said you 
must carry it all your life ; and it seems almost as if it 
were my seal that I had set upon you. The sight of it 
might revive — ” 

She checked herself abruptly, blushing, and lifted 
his right hand ; but he snatched it from her, flushing 
angrily. 

“ The — the scar is too sacred in my sight to be exhib- 
ited,” he stammered. 

“ To me, Guy ?” 

“To any one. I am not fond of exhibiting such 
things. Some other time I’ll show it to you, Blanche, 
but not now.” 

“ It still exists then ?” asked the Baronet, his keen 
eyes closely scrutinizing the flushed and perturbed face 
of his pretended son. 

“ Certainly. How can a mark like that fade out ? It 
still exists, and is a precious scar to me when I think 
how I won it,” said the pretender, recovering his 
equanimity. “ Ah, I was a hare-brained lad, Blanche. 
I had more hair-breadth escapes, more adventures and 
troubles than would have sufficed for a dozen boys. 
Always in some Quixotic scrape, always being in- 
volved in some fight in behalf of some smaller urchin, or 
some crazy tramp or persecuted individual. It’s a won- 
der I lived to years of manhood.” 


AN INTERCEPTED LETTER. 


221 


“ That is all true,” said Sir Arthur. “ My boy was 
always the champion of the weak and oppressed. But,” 
he added, “ it did not use to be like him to boast of it ! 
But that is not the only respect in which you have 
changed, Guy !” 

The pretender flushed again, and arose from his has- 
sock, bestowing himself in an easy-chair in the shadow, 
at the opposite corner of the hearth. 

“ There’s nothing like rivalry,” he observed, with a 
sneer, which innocent Blanche did not perceive, but 
which Sir Arthur plainly felt, “ and rivalry in the same 
pursuit, to open the eyes of a father to his son’s faults ! 
It is curious isn’t it now, how the nearest relatives hate 
each other when their interests or passions threaten to 
clash !” 

The false son spoke with a carelessness and apparent 
indifference which caused Blanche to think that he was 
simply indulging in a philosophical reflection without 
any personal application. 

But Sir Arthur understood it only too well. The stab 
went home. He turned paler still if possible, and a 
stern and sorrowful look beamed in his eyes. 

He comprehended that Lowder, having discovered 
his secret love for Blanche, meant to use it as a weapon 
to stab him at will. This utter lack of the commonest 
honor and manliness, that would have made another 
bury the secret deep in his own breast, seemed to Sir 
Arthur a baseness of which he could scarcely believe 
his son to be capable. That baseness cut deeper now 
than the sneer. For a little while he sat silent. Low- 
der, incensed at the barely concealed coldness of 
Blanche, and at her references to Guy’s past, pounded 
the hearth-rug viciously with his heel. 

At length Sir Arthur spoke, addressing his ward : 


222 


GUY TRESSILIAN’S FATE. 


“ You look tired, Blanche,” he said. “ Do you feel 
ill ?” 

*' No, Sir Arthur,” the girl answered. “ I am not ill, 
but I am tired.” 

She arose, declaring her intention of retiring, and 
said good-night very quietly to Sir Arthur and Lowder. 
Both men noticed that she did not offer a kiss as for- 
merly to the Baronet, and one of them felt the change 
in her with a pang. 

She went out silently. Lowder arose, as if to depart 
also, but Sir Arthur stopped him by a stern gesture. 

“ Do not go yet !” he commanded, sternly. “ I have 
some business to transact with you, Guy. It is time we 
came to some sort of an understanding. Sit down. I 
have something of importance to say to you.” 

Considerably surprised, but not at all alarmed, Jasper 
Lowder resumed his seat. 

“ Go on !” he said insolently. “ What have you to 
say to me ?” 


CHAPTER XXI. 

A STARTLING DISCOVERY. 

For a few moments after the utterance of the words 
with which we took our leave of them, Sir Arthur Tres- 
silian and Jasper Lowder sat in the drawing-room in 
silence. The Baronet did not know how to enter upon 
the subject which agitated his soul, and of which he had 
determined to speak unreservedly to the young man. 

The mingled glow of lamplight and firelight fell 
full upon Sir Arthur’s handsome face, revealing the dark 
lines under his eyes, and the perplexed and troubled 


A STARTLING DISCOVERY. 


223 


expression that sat upon his feature^. Looking at him 
sharply, Lowder experienced a vague alarm. He 
stopped beating his heels against the hearth-rug, and 
regarded the Baronet keenly and closely. 

“ You seem troubled,” he observed, with affected care- 
lessness. 

“ I am troubled,” returned Sir Arthur briefly. 

‘ ' I suppose you intend to harp upon that affair of the 
two thousand pounds while life lasts,” cried Lowder 
impatientl3\‘ “ If you think you will make me any better 
by going about with a long face, heaving deep sighs, 
you are mistaken. I am sorry for my fault. If you 
were generous, you would be contented with that con- 
fession, and suffer the matter to die out of your mind.” 

“ It is not about that money I wish to speak to you, 
Guy,” said Sir Arthur, his dark pale face flushing. I 
have many and deep anxieties — ” 

u And all about me, I suppose ?” demanded Lowder, 
in a tone of annoyance. “ Or, do some of your anxieties 
concern Blanche ?” he added significantly. 

A pained expression passed over the Baronet’s face, 
but he made no reply to this sneering question. 

“ The truth is,” said Lowder, “ that you and I have 
been at war since that affair of ten days since. I have 
expressed my sorrow a score of times. I would like to 
restore our old relations to each other. I would like to 
be again your confidential friend. In short, I would 
like to atone for my errors, and prove to you that I am 
of real sterling worth at bottom, and that my faults are 
but the froth that rises to the top of good wine.” 

“ Before you can prove this to me, Guy, I must be 
taken into your confidence. I must know what your 
secret is — ■” 

“ My secret !” cried Lowder, starting. 

“ Yes. You need not deny that you have a secret. I 


224 


GUY TRESSILIAN’s FATE. 


know now that the sum you paid that Italian was not to 
pay a gaming debt. Why did he promise repeatedly to 
write to you weekly ? What mystery was there between 
you and him ? Why have you bribed him to silence ?” 

Lowder was too much startled to reply. The Baronet, 
so long unsuspecting and trustful, had aroused himself 
at last. What would be the issue of his inquiries ? 

“ I have no secret,” stammered the usurper. “ Your 
romantic fancies have strayed far from the truth. Pal- 
estro was only a scrivener to whom I owed a heavy 
gaming debt — ” 

“ Then why do you insist upon his writing to you 
each week ?” 

Lowder could not devise a plausible answer. He 
turned red and pale by turns, shifted uneasily in his 
chair, and finally pushed himself back into the shadow, 
maintaining an obstinate silence. 

The Baronet continued to regard him with a keen, 
steady, soul-searching gaze. 

“ And why,” demanded Sir Arthur sternly, “ do you 
have his letters come to a false address at Gloucester ?” 

Lowder uttered a hoarse ejaculation of dismay and 
consternation. A scared look came into his eyes. He 
seemed overwhelmed — terror-stricken. He sat for a 
moment as if paralyzed. 

“ Who — who told you ?” he gasped. “ It is false — I 
swear it is false.” 

Sir Arthur held up his hand in a commanding ges- 
ture. 

“ One question more,” he said, in a voice of terrible 
sternness, with eyes that seemed all aglow with awful 
accusation. “ Who is this prisoner who was in the 
hands of the brigand chief, the Red Carvelli — this pris- 
oner who has escaped and come to England — ” 

Jasper Lowder interrupted the Baronet with a shrill, 











f 





















































































































• • : ' : • - 











* 









A STARTLING DISCOVERY. 


225 


horrible cry that might have emanated from a soul that 
knows itself lost through all eternity. His livid face, 
his starting eyes, his convulsed' features, all proclaimed 
that a mortal terror was upon him. 

“ Escaped !” he said hollowly. “ Come to England ! 
He — he is here ?” 

Sir Arthur was appalled at the emotion his words 
had aroused. The mystery enveloping his supposed 
son began to assume larger proportions in his eyes. 

“ You think he will come directly to Tressilian Court 
on his arrival in England, then ?” the Baronet asked 
quickly. 

Lowder put up his hands feebly, as if he expected an 
immediate personal attack. He cowered before Sir 
Arthur, while he glanced at the door as if expecting to 
behold a dreaded apparition. 

“You have seen him ?” he whispered. 

“ No, I have not seen him. He has not yet made his 
appearance at the Court.” 

“ You — you have heard from him ?” 

“ No, not from the mysterious person whose escape 
from the hands of the brigands in Italy has power to 
startle you into such abject terror !” 

“ You have had a letter from Palestro ?” Lowder 
questioned, in a quavering voice, his only thought being 
that all his guilt was known, or on the point of being 
revealed. 

Sir Arthur hesitated in his reply. Lowder waited 
for him to speak as a convicted criminal waits for his 
sentence of death from the stern lips of his judge. 
Presently Sir Arthur said, in a voice of stern power : 

“ Palestro has not written to me, Guy. I am going 
to deal with you frankly, and you must deal truthfully 
with me. I have got upon the track of your secret, 
and I mean to know it fully. There must be no more 


226 


GUY TKESSILIAN’S FATE. 


secresy, no more lying, no more subterfuge. You 
understand ?” 

“ How much do you know ?” asked Lowder faintly. 

“ I will tell you. This evening, after you left the 
dinner-table with Blanche, Purmton brought in the let- 
ters. There were several of them. One was for 
Blanche ; the rest, as I supposed, for me. One of 
these letters was addressed ‘ to the young Sir Tressil- 
ian.’ The address was certainly odd, but I am by no 
means old, and of course, 'I am the only baronet of the 
name. I was suffering from many secret perplexities, 
and — in short, Guy, I opened a letter that was intended 
for you.” 

Lowder breathed hard and gaspingly. 

“ It was from Palestro,” continued the Baronet. “ It 
is needless to say that I have read it entirely.” 

He took from his pocket the letter in question and 
gave it into Lowder’s hands. 

The latter snatched it eagerly, and his burning gaze 
ran like a swift flame over its contents. He read it 
twice, and then, with the calmness of an utter despera- 
tion, leaned forward and laid the letter upon the coals. 

As it burned to a brown and shrivelled shred, the 
usurper raised his red and desperate face to the full 
gaze of Sir Arthur, and his eyes gleamed with defiance, 
as he ejaculated the single word : 

“ Well ?” 

“ I demand an explanation of the contents of that let- 
ter. Again I ask of you, who is that escaped prisoner ? 
Why do you fear his coming to England ?” 

The prospects of Jasper Lowder were exceedingly 
dark at that moment ; but at heart his hope was not yet 
dead. The letter at the Gloucester post-office might 
contain better news. Surely Tressilian could not have 
recovered his reason. It must be, he thought, that the 


A STARTLING DISCOVERY. 


227 


English girl who had constituted herself Guy's protec- 
tor, having been freed from her imprisonment with the 
bandits, had simply continued her journey to England, 
bringing Tressilian with her. The name of Jasper Lowder 
was fastened upon the poor imbecile. He had been 
frightened, and had nearly betrayed his guilt and cov- 
ered himself with ruin, in his cowardly panic. He must 
hasten to retrieve himself in the opinion of the stern 
but high-souled Baronet. 

These thoughts coursed through his mind in a swift- 
rushing torrent. The passionate alarm and desperation 
faded from his countenance. He busied his fertile 
brain in devising an explanation that should quell the 
suspicions of the thoroughly aroused Baronet. How 
was he to account plausibly for his recent terror and 
despair ? 

“I — I will explain the matter,” he said, when the 
stern, questioning gaze of Sir Arthur, and the deep, 
terrible silence had become unendurable, and the neces- 
sity for his answer became pressing. “ The man who 
has escaped from the brigands is a vile fellow— an 
Italian — a former acquaintance of mine. He — he hates 
me. He would kill me at sight.” 

“ And why ?” 

“ Because — because — How can I lay bare to you 
that chapter in> my life ?” cried Lowder. “ You have 
already a clue to the truth in that matter of the gaming 
debt. Your life here in the country has been so peace- 
ful, so quiet, so utterly without temptation, that you 
cannot make allowance for the faults of a hot-headed 
youth. Having plenty of money, being young and 
thoughtless and full of life, having no guide or tutor, or 
older head to think for me, is it to be wondered at that 
I was foolish, even wicked ?” 


228 


<3rTJY TRESSILIAN’s FATE. 


Sir Arthur’s grave features became graver and more 
stern. 

“Go on,” he said quietly. 

“ At Naples,” continued Lowder, drawing easily upon 
his ready inventiveness, “ I fell in with a bad set. You 
know my frankness and unsuspicion ? I became a prey 
to a gang of sharpers who infested this inn of Palestro’s 
where I stopped for some weeks. They led me on to 
gamble, as you know to your cost. One night — can I 
ever forget it?” and Lowder’s voice seemed to vibrate 
with a passionate horror and remorse — “ those Italians 
induced me to join them, as I had done before. I went 
with them to their upper room at the inn. They brought 
out wine and stronger drinks. I drank with them — I 
played. You know nothing of such a scene, father. 
Spare me the recital of its horrors.” 

He paused, shuddering, and covering his face with 
his hands. 

“ Go on !” again commanded Sir Arthur sternly. 

Lowder hastened to obey. 

“ I was urged to drink again and again. Unused as 
I was to strong liquor, the brandy flew to my brain. I 
played recklessly. I lost a hundred pounds to an Italian 
— this very fellow who has escaped from the brigand’s 
hands. I played on, and won twice the sum I had lost. 
My opponent sprang up, accusing me of cheating. My 
head was in a tumult ; my blood was on fire. As quick 
as a flash I seized a dagger from the belt of this Palestro 
who was here, and stabbed my lying accuser in the face 
and breast. He fell, as I thought, mortally wounded.” 

Again Lowder paused, apparently overcome by his 
reminiscences, but in reality to mark the effect of his 
false narrative upon the Baronet. The story, as told by 
the usurper, had sounded terribly real. His shuddering 
voice, his remorseful face, his starting eyes, all would 


A STARTLING DISCOVERY. 


229 


have done credit to the cleverest actor upon the boards 
of the Haymarket or Drury Lane theatres. 

“ Imagine my horror and terror !” he resumed. 
“ Imagine my awful despair ! I hastened toward the 
wounded man, but he waved me back with an oath of 
undying hatred. I believed myself a murderer. Pal- 
estro offered to connive at my escape upon the payment 
of a sum of money, which I gladly gave him. His 
silence purchased, I fled to Sardinia. While there I had 
a letter from Palestro, stating that the fellow had 
recovered from his wound, but that he was frightfully 
disfigured. More than that, he had sworn an awful 
oath to be revenged upon me. You know how revenge- 
ful the hot-blooded Italians are. In the same letter in 
which Palestro informed me of my deadly peril, telling 
me that the man was a very sleuth-hound, and meant 
to kill me, the inn-keeper told me that he would have 
him kidnapped by brigands, and carried to the cavern 
of the Red Carvelli, who is, I should have said, Pales- 
tro’s brother-in-law. I consented to this disposition of 
the man. I exchanged my fear of him for Palestro’s 
tyranny. You know the rest.” 

This story, so well told, sounded plausible enough. 
The manner and looks of Lowder went far to confirm 
it. When he had concluded, he bowed his head before 
the Baronet as one awaiting sentence. 

And still Sir Arthur made no comment. 

“ 1 do not ask for your forgiveness for my errors, 
father,” said the usurper, with well-feigned humility. 
“ You are so noble and upright that I have not until 
now dared to tell you the truth. And I would have 
kept silence to my death, but for your discovery of a 
portion of the truth. I have forfeited your respect and 
affection ; and yet I was never more worthy of both 
than I am at this moment. I have outgrown my boyish 


230 


GUY TKESSILIAN’S FATE. 


faults and errors, and am to-night a nobler and a better 
man for my experiences. I have disappointed you I 
know. Will you make my remorse deeper than it is ? 
Will you make my life a burden to me ? Or will you 
forgive me?" 

He looked up imploringly, acting his part to such 
perfection that Sir Arthur’s sternness and coldness 
began to show signs of relaxing. 

“ You have told me the truth — the whole truth ?” the 
Baronet demanded, in a voice of command. 

“ The whole truth, sir,” declared Lowder, forcing 
himself to meet Sir Arthur’s gaze unflinchingly, ‘‘You 
can write to Palestro,.if you doubt me. You can send a 
messenger to Naples. I will shrink from no test you 
may choose to apply.” 

The Baronet drew a long sigh, whether of pain or 
relief Lowder could not tell. 

“Say no more, Guy,” he said. “ ‘ Let the dead past 
bury its dead.’ If your repentance for your faults is 
sincere, I will not heap reproaches upon you. As you 
have now thrown off all the burden upon your soul, I 
hope I shall see you again what you once were. Or if 
the frankness and open-heartedness, the bright temper 
and innocent gayety of disposition, are gone forever, 
at least be to me a son whom I can respect.” 

There were tears in Sir Arthur’s brown eyes as he 
spoke these words. Lowder held out his hand in token 
of a complete reconciliation. The Baronet clasped it 
but without heartiness or spirit. 

Lowder lingered some minutes to deepen the impres- 
sion he had made, and then arose and withdrew, going 
to his room. 

Sir Arthur remained in the drawing-room an hour or 
more longer. The heavy shadows upon his handsome 


A STARTLING DISCOVERT. 


231 


face did not lift, nor did the gloom in his dark eyes 
lessen. 

“That story was plausible enough,” he murmured 
“ It sounded true. Why should I continue to doubt 
because he has deceived me before ? Why is it that I 
am growing to loathe him — that the touch of his hand 
makes me shudder — that the sound of his voice jars 
upon me ?” 

He arose and paced the room wearily. In his own 
mind he reviewed the narrative Lowder had rehearsed 
to him. And then his thoughts recurred to the incident 
of the early evening — Lowder’s refusal to exhibit his 
wrist to the gaze of Blanche. 

“That was singular,” Sir Arthur thought, recalling 
Lowder’s agitation and annoyance. “ Blanche desired 
very naturally to look at the scar that had been gained 
in rescuing her from peril, perhaps death. Why did he 
refuse to show it to her ? The scar was declared to be 
indelible. Guy says that it still exists. I remember 
well its shape and appearance. What am I to think of 
his singular refusal to show it ?” 

He quickened his steps to an impetuous tread. 

“ If the scar is there, as he declares, what is the secret 
of his singular manner? If it is not there — ” 

His own words brought a strange suspicion to the 
Baronet’s mind — a suspicion, faint and glimmering, of 
the actual truth. .He scouted it as preposterous. He 
told himself he was foolish — insane. But the idea would 
not be dispelled. It clung to him like a hideous night- 
mare. 

At last, weary and worn, he extinguished the draw- 
ing-room lights, and proceeded up stairs. 

Once in that wide and lonely upper corridor, he hesi- 
tated, coming to a halt. Then, with some sudden 
impulse, he moved toward the pretender’s door and 


232 


GUY TRESSILIAN'S FATE. 


listened. The sound of heavy breathing came from 
within. 

“ He is asleep/' thought the Baronet. “ If that scar is 
on his wrist, this doubt, this uneasiness will be con- 
quered. I must see.” 

He battled with himself, but he could not pass on to 
his chamber to spend the night in harrowing doubts 
which one bold step would settle forever. 

“ I must know !” he whispered anxiously, his eyes 
growing haggard again. “ For Blanche’s sake, I must 
resolve the doubts I dare not confess to myself.” 

He set down his candle on a small bracket in the hall. 
Then he softly opened the door of the impostor's cham- 
ber. 

Lowder was in bed and soundly asleep. The light of 
the night without penetrated into the room through the 
parted curtains. A small night light burned on a table 
near the bed. 

Sir Arthur removed his boots at the door, and softly 
crossed the floor and stood by the bedside. The 
impostor was sleeping as tranquilly as a child, a peace- 
ful look on his fair face, a half smile on his lips. 

Sir Arthur’s heart warmed toward him. 

“ He must be mine — my own boy !” he thought, for 
the first time giving name and expression to the sus- 
picions that had tortured him. “ No villain could sleep 
like that !” 

One of the sleeper’s arms lay on the silken coverlet. 
The right arm was tossed carelessly above his head, 
and the loose sleeve of his night-shirt covered his wrist. 
With a touch as gentle as that of a woman, the Baronet 
pulled aside the shrouding sleeve. 

The wrist lay revealed. Despite the assertion of the 
impostor, it was smooth and white, unmarked by a 
single scar, or the least trace of any injury whatever. 


olla’s enemy at hand. 


233 


With one wild and agonized look, made np of horror 
and incredulity, the Baronet crept feebly from the 
room. 


CHAPTER XXII. 
olla’s enemy at hand. 

Nearly three weeks had passed since the arrival at 
Bleak Top of Olla Rymple, Guy Tressilian and the 
faithful Popleys. 

The short December day was at its close. The heavy 
twilight was shutting grayly and darkly down upon the 
Cheviot Hills. There was again snow in the air, and 
already a fine, sharp sleet, that cut the skins of exposed 
travellers like needle points, pervaded the atmosphere. 
The wind was keen and strong and fierce, and full of 
biting cold. 

The lights were gleaming faintly from the uncur- 
tained windows of the stone cottages forming the small 
hamlet of Gloamvale. The red glow of fire streamed 
out from the forge of the village smithy upon the stony, 
frozen street. A great lamp was placed in the shop 
window of the “ general dealer’s ” establishment, in the 
midst of evergreens, sprays of holly berries and sprigs 
of mistletoe, all signs and tokens of the approaching 
Christmas. If other signs of the coming festal season 
were wanted, they might be found in the dolls and toys, 
the boxes of raisins, colored tapers, painted penny 
trumpets, and other novelties and dainties that thronged 
the window, the door-way and the counter. 

The shopkeeper was standing in his doorway, his 
burly figure thrown into relief by the strong light behind 


234 


GUY TRESSILIAN S FATE. 


him. He looked anxiously up and down the slippery, 
wind-swept street, and was just saying to himsel’f that 
he would have no customers that night, when the loud 
clatter of wheels was heard, and a post-chaise came 
down the street, drawn by two jaded horses. 

“ Who can that be ?” muttered the dealer, in a mild 
surprise. “ Everybody seems to be coming to Gloam-_ 
vale now-a-days.” 

He stepped out upon the side-walk, to further indulge 
his curiosity. As if his appearance had been a signal, 
the carriage slackened its speed, and drew up at the 
shopman’s curbstone. 

At the same moment a gentleman thrust his head out 
of the chaise window, and roughly ordered the driver to 
go on. 

“It can’t be done, your honor,” said the driver, dis- 
mounting and coming to the carriage do©r. “ The 
beasts are dead tired. I ’ve had to beat ’em cruel the 
last five miles. The roads are in a terrible condition, 
and the wind freezes ’em. They an’t got no more heart 
left than a pair o’ chickens.” 

“ But, see here,” cried the passenger. “ You must go 
on, you know. This isn't going to do at all.” 

“ Can’t help it, your honor. It would kill the beasts 
to climb that there mountain to-night,” the driver 
declared doggedly. “ They'd break down afore we got 
to the top. I ’m ’sponsible for the horses, and I ’m a 
judge of what they can bear. Two miles of that moun- 
tain travel would kill ’em in their present condition.” 

The passenger hastily flung open the chaise door and 
leaped out upon the walk. One glance at his large, 
portly figure, wrapped as it was in greatcoat and furs, 
and at his fair face, with its expression of cool disdain 
and overbearing haughtiness, would have been sufficient 
to proclaim his identity to one who had once seen him. 


olla’s enemy at hand. 


235 


He was Olla’s faithless guardian and relentless enemy 
— Mr. Devereux Gower. 

From the night of Olla’s flight from Palermo, he had 
been in active search of her. He had not discovered in 
what way she had fled from the island until the day 
after she had gone, and, as Olla had intended, he then 
believed that she had gone to Marseilles, on her way to 
England. To Marseilles he had followed as soon as 
possible, but he found no trace of her there. He went 
on to Paris — to England. He visited all her acquaint- 
ances and former friends, pursuing his inquiries. Fail- 
ing to find her, he hurried back to the Continent. 

A copy of Galignani' s Messenger containing an account 
of the capture, near Naples, of the formidable brigand, 
the Red Carvelli, and his men, with mention of the 
release of the prisoners, giving their names, came into 
his hands at Paris. Believing that Olla was still at 
Naples, he hurried thither. He sought out the Vesu- 
vius Inn and its mistress, gained some information, and 
posted back to England. By dint of close inquiry, he 
had learned that this lonely place among the Cheviot 
Hills, and upon the summit of Bleak Mountain, was a 
heritage of his ward, and having sought for her else- 
where in vain, he had now come to seek for her here. 

Mr. Gower turned from the driver to the shopkeeper, 
demanding, with the air of a vastly superior being : 

“ How far is it to Bleak Top ?” 

“ About three miles, sir,” the dealer replied respect- 
fully, duly impressed with Mr. Gower’s manner. “ It’s 
a zigzag sort of road, sir, winding and climbing.” 

At this moment a horseman rode slowly past the 
shop. He was in shadow, and his cap was drawn down 
over his eyes. Mr. Gower glanced at him idly, but no 
instinct warned him that the horseman was Popley, 
Olla’s faithful ally and servitor. 


236 guy tressilian’s fate. 

But it was Popley, and none other. He had been to 
the cottage of a seamstress further down the street, to 
procure some garments that had been making for his 
young mistress, and was now on his return to Bleak 
Top. 

But though Popley was unrecognized by Mr. Gower, 
he did not fail to recognize the enemy of Miss Olla, as 
the latter stood in the full glare of the light from the 
shop. Betraying no agitation or excitement, however, 
he quietly rode on, pursuing his course along the street. 
When he had passed out of sight and hearing of the 
little group clustering in the light before the shop door, 
he quickened his horse’s pace, hurrying homeward with 
his evil news. 

Mr. Gower, forgetful the next instant of the passing 
horseman, pursued his inquiries. 

“ Is the road to Bleak Top broken ?” he asked. 

“Yes, sir. It’s been broken a week or more. They 
were snowed in on the mountain top for more’n a week, 
but when the thaw came Kit Kipp broke a road — ” 

“ Who is Kit Kipp ?” 

“ The housekeeper’s son, sir.” 

“ Ah ! Is there anybody stopping at Bleak Top — any- 
body besides these people who have charge of the 
house ?” 

“ Yes, sir. Miss Rymple, the lady who owns the 
place, is there, with her servants and a sick gentle- 
man — ” 

“ Ah!" again breathed Mr. Gower, while a lurid glow 
of fierce delight lit up his sinister face, and sparkled 
evilly in his sinister eyes. 

He turned away his head, that the shopkeeper might 
not witness his emotion. His search had led him to 
success at last. 

“ The road being broken,” he said, in a tone of eager 


OLLA S ENEMY AT HAND. 


237 


impatience, “ we will of course go on. I must reach 
Bleak Top to-night. I won’t mind a crown or so as a 
gift, at the end of the journey. So up to your box, 
driver. We must get on !” 

The driver shook his head sullenly, lashing his feet 
with his whip. 

“ I can’t do it, sir !” he exclaimed. “ Not twenty 
crowns, nor twenty suvrins would tempt me. The 
beasts ’ll drop afore the first mile is ended. The bar- 
gain was to Gloamvale, and I can’t take you no further 
to-night. I must find a place to put up. If you say go 
on, in the morning, go on it is. But not sooner !” 

With this dictum, he mounted his box and sat upon it 
the picture of dogged determination. 

Mr. Gower looked at the horses. He saw at a glance 
that they were unfit for further use, and he reluctantly 
acquiesced in the necessities of the case. 

“ Put up your horses then !” he exclaimed. “ I will 
find a conveyance to take me to Bleak Top.’* 

The driver flourished his whip, and his jaded beasts 
moved slowly on in the sleet and darkness, the shop- 
keeper telling him where to go. 

“Come this way, .sir,” said the dealer, going toward 
his shop. “ I can give you lodgings for the night — ” 

“ Didn’t you just hear me say I should procure a con- 
veyance and go on ?” interposed Mr. Gower sharply, as 
he followed the dealer into the shop. 

“ But no conveyance can’t be had for love or money,” 
returned the shopkeeper blankly. “What few horses 
there are at Gloamvale are farm horses that work all 
day, and are not fit to travel at night. Besides, the 
night is bad — ” 

Mr. Gower interrupted the man with an impatient 
exclamation. 


238 


GUY TRESSILIAN*S FATE. 


“ Are you sure there are no horses to be had ?” he 
exclaimed. “ I will pay any price — ” 

The shopkeeper repeated his assertion. He was 
startled the next moment by the volley of oaths that 
came from the lips of the aristocratic stranger. 

“ If no horses are to be had, I will walk to the moun- 
tain summit !” he cried. “ I have imperative business 
at Bleak Top, and must be there to-night.” 

He called for a glass of brandy, which was procured 
from an inner room where the shopkeeper’s family 
lived. He drank the fiery liquid, tossed a shilling on 
the counter, and despite the earnest entreaties of the 
shopkeeper, stalked out of the establishment and set 
upon his journey to Bleak Top. 

“ Tracked !” he muttered jubilantly, as he crossed 
the stream of light before the door of the smithy, and 
strode on into the gloom and sleet. “She is tracked 
again ! I shall find her at Bleak Top, with her paragon 
of idiots. She shall rue the day she first tried to outwit 
me. Oh, the little tantalizing, saucy beauty ! Despite 
her coldness and scorn, and the trouble she has caused 
me, I love her still. And it may be as well that she has 
come to this lonely spot. Krigger will come on to- 
morrow, and I will turn my lady’s refuge into a prison ! 
We shall see which is to win the game — she or I ?” 

He hurried on, gathering his garments closer. The 
sleet cut his face ; the wind pierced to his very bones. 
The footing was insecure and difficult, but, buoyed up 
by his two great passions, love and revenge, Mr. Gower 
boldly breasted the storm. 

He began the ascent of the lonely mountain. Below 
him gleamed the lights of Gloamvale. He could see 
nothing on either side of him, or in advance save the 
mist of blinding sleet. 

“ A nasty night !” he muttered, plodding onward. 


olla’s enemy at hand. 


239 


“ If my impatience would have allowed me to wait till 
morning, it might have been better. How surprised 
Olla will be to see me ! I can see now her sur- 
prise and terror. Ha ! she will find I am not quite the 
man .she imagined !” 

Pursuing his upward course steadily, staggering into 
an occasional drift, now pitching forward, now slipping 
backward, and all the time battling with the wind, he 
made but slow progress. He muttered frequent curses, 
and his wrath against his runaway ward grew fierce and 
hot, as he struggled with the difficulties of his path. 

“ Fool that I am !” he ejaculated. “ I should have 
brought a lantern with me. Why did not that shop- 
keeper tell me that this is the worst road in all Christen- 
dom ? I will not turn back if the alternative is to per- 
ish in this cursed storm. Ah ! there’s a light now — the 
light of a farm-house. It surely can’t be that I have 
gotten up to Bleak Top ?” 

The light emanated from a house window at a little 
distance upon his right. It was in fact the light of Hes- 
ter Lowder’s lamp, issuing from the window of the par- 
lor of Gloam Fell. 

Mr. Gower made for the light, determined to secure 
rest and warmth before proceeding further. He found 
the small gate in the wall, and entered the garden of 
Gloam Fell, making for the house. As he came near, 
he peeped in at the parlor window. 

It was no picture of home joys that his eyes rested 
upon. 

In the glow of the firelight and lamplight, Hester 
Lowder was sitting. Her child lay on her knees, quiet 
—strangely quiet. No baby laughter was sounding in 
the room ; no baby gambols were making the mother’s 
heart glad. 

He could not see the face of the young mother, but 


240 


GUY TRESSILIAN S FATE. 


her attitude was one of utter despair. Her meek, girlish 
head drooped low toward her boy. She seemed to be 
listening to learn if the child still breathed. 

Impressed by the scene, by the mute anguish and 
despair expressed by Hester’s figure, Mr. Gower stole 
away from the window, and went around to the rear 
entrance, where he knocked loudly. 

Mrs. Tooker, the former tenant of the farm-house, 
gave him admittance into her neat, warm kitchen. 

“We’ve been expecting you this long time,” she 
exclaimed. “ Oh, it’s not the doctor !” 

“ No, Madame, I am no doctor, only a traveller who 
would like to warm himself at your fire,” returned Mr. 
Gower, advancing to the fireplace. “ Is any one ill in 
the house ?” 

“ Only the baby, sir, Mrs. Blees’ baby,” answered Mrs. 
Tooker, when she had compelled the visitor to repeat 
his question twice. “ You must excuse me, sir. I am 
a little hard of hearing. Won’t you sit down ?” 

She pushed a chair toward Mr. Gower, who took pos- 
session of it, and put his chilled, half frozen feet to the 
genial blaze. 

“ It must be a terrible night out !” said Mrs. Tooker 
uneasily, going to the window. “ I do wish the doctor 
would come. I am afraid the child will die. And if 
little Jasper dies, his mother will die too, in my 
opinion.” 

“ What did you say the name was ? Who did )^ou 
call Jasper ?” asked Mr. Gower in his highest tones. 

“The child, sir; Mrs. Blees’ baby. He is named 
Jasper after his pa,” explained Mrs. Tooker, who, being 
uneasy and troubled, was unusually garrulous, as if 
hoping to find comfort in the very expression of her 
fears. “ We’ve sent for the doctor and telegraphed for 
Mr. Blees, but no one’s come yet. And indeed, we 


olla’s enemy at hand. 


241 


couldn’t expept the baby’s pa before to-morrow, as he 
lives down Gloucester way. Which way were you going, 
sir ?” 

“ To Bleak Top !” 

“ They’ve a sight of company there now-a-days, I 
should say,” observed Mrs. Tooker. “ Going to spend 
Christmas, I suppose. Well, some can dance and be 
glad, and some can cry and suffer, like the poor thing 
in yonder. Her husband hasn’t been to see her since 
she came. I don’t know but I ought to telegraph to 
Mr. Tressilian, whose agent brought her here — ” 

“ Mr. Tressilian ?” repeated Mr. Gower, who had long 
since learned that Guy Tressilian had been the employer 
of Jasper Lowder. He had examined the list of passen- 
gers of the steamer on the day the false Tressilian left 
Palermo for Marseilles, and had easily identified the 
“ Sir Tresolino ” of the Vicinis with Guy Tressilian. 

“Yes. Mr. Tressilian owns this place,” said Mrs. 
Tooker restlessly, continuing her watch from the win- 
dow. Mrs. Blees is the wife of a friend of his.” 

“ Of a friend named Jasper ?” muttered Gower. “ A 
singular coincidence 1” 

He meditated upon it, wondering if he had not stum- 
bled upon a mystery. The doctor arrived presently, 
with the lad who had been sent for him, and went into 
the parlor, as soon as he was sufficiently warmed. He 
came out a few minutes later with a very grave coun- 
tenance. 

“ You did not send for me soon enough,” he said, 
addressing himself to Mr. Gower. “The child cannot 
live until morning. It is a case of malignant sore 
throat.” 

“ I have no personal interest in the matter, sir,” said 
Mr. Gower haughtily. “ Address yourself to this good 
woman, if you please.” 


242 


GUY TRESSILIAn’s FATE. 


The doctor, thus rebuffed, addressed himself to Mrs. 
Tooker of whom he was an old acquaintance. 

Mr. Gower was by this time both warmed and 
refreshed, and made an effort to procure a conveyance 
of some sort to Bleak Top. Mrs. Tooker’s horse was 
too tired, and she refused to lend him. The doctor, on 
account of the rebuff he had received from the supercil- 
ious stranger, declined to give any aid in the matter, 
and announced his intention of remaining all night at 
Gloam Fell. 

“ You had better do the same, sir,” said Mrs. Tooker 
hospitably. “ I can give you a bed. The night is too 
severe for a dog to be out in, let alone a man. You can 
easily go on in the morning.” Mr. Gower went out 
upon the porch, but a minute’s experience of the bitter 
cold decided him to remain until morning. He came in 
again, announcing his intention of remaining. A bed was 
prepared for him, and he retired to it ; but not to sleep. 

For, an hour later, as the drowsiness began to creep 
over him, the shrill, wailing cry of a woman in anguish 
smote the still night air, and he knew that the baby 
down stairs was dead. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

THE SKY BRIGHTENING. 

While the shadow of death was hovering over the 
lonely old farm-house of Gloam Fell — while Mr. Gower, 
scarcely two miles distant from his refractory young 
ward, was building his plans to make her his prisoner 
on the morrow — a scene that promised ill to the faith- 
less guardian’s schemes was transpiring at Bleak Top. 


THE SKY BRIGHTENING. 


243 


Once more we invite the attention of the reader to 
the double drawing-room of the isolated mountain 
house, with its low ceiling, its ancient furniture, its 
worn carpet, its flowing muslin curtains, its magnificent 
wood fire, and its general aspect of home comfort. A 
table, with easy-chairs on either side of it, was drawn 
up near to the glowing hearth, and upon this table stood 
a large globe lamp, whose mellow light was shaded by 
a painted screen. Around the lamp was a litter of 
books, magazines and papers, none of them of very 
recent date. 

The front drawing-room had but a single occupant, 
our bright, brave, noble Olla. She was standing at one 
of the windows, one slender hand parting the curtains 
as she looked out into the sleety, stormy night. There 
was no shadow on the beautiful face, no trouble 
expressed in the clear, radiant eyes, no drooping of 
the slender upright figure. It seemed indeed as if 
Happiness, which had so long passed her by, had been 
touched at last by her fortitude and bravery, and was 
beginning to brighten her lonely life. 

The folding doors of the double room were open, 
and in the inner drawing-room, before the fire, good 
Mrs. Popley sat dozing. 

But Olla had forgotten the near proximity of her 
faithful old attendant. She was wrapt in thought, and 
did not even start when the hall door opened, and some 
one entered the room. 

The new-comer was Guy Tressilian. 

Three weeks of complete rest, of tender care and 
nursing, had completely transformed him from the 
apparently dying invalid to his olden self, as he had 
been in his best days. It is true that he was still pale 
and somewhat thin, but the old fire was kindled in his 
blue, fearless, sunny eyes ; the old grave smile sat on 


244 


GUY TRESSILIAn’s FATE. 


his lips ; and the old spirit and intellect were enthroned 
on his noble features. His tawny hair was flung back 
from his forehead, and his tangled flossy beard had 
given place to a curling mustache, which well became 
his patrician face. 

He approached Olla, and laid his hand on hers. The 
young girl started then, and blushed and smiled her 
welcome. 

“ What do you see out in the gloomy night, Olla ?,” 
asked Tressilian. “ Or are you only thinking ?” 

Olla dropped the curtain, answering, while her sunny 
face unconsciously clouded : 

“Yes, I was thinking, and of you ! It is time yon 
left us, Guy. You are well again, and you ought to go 
home !” 

“I have been thinking the same thing, Olla,” returned 
Tressilian gravely. “ I am well, as you say. To-Morrow 
evening will be Christmas eve. There used to be great 
festivities at Tressilian Court in my boyhood. I have 
a fancy to arrive at home on Christmas morning. What 
a surprise my coming will be to father and Blanche ! 
What a surprise it will be to Jasper Lowder !” 

“ Yes — yes,” said Olla, in a voice that would tremble, 
in spite of her efforts to keep it steady and calm. “ You 
must go, Guy. When I think of your father being 
imposed upon by his pretended son — this Jasper Low- 
der — it seems as if you had done wrong to remain here 
so long. You might at least have written — ” 

“ No, no, Olla. I want to confront Lowder in his new 
estate. I want to see how he acts the part of Guy Tres- 
silian. I want to know from my own observation if he 
has won my father’s heart from me. In short, I choose 
to make my appearance at Tressilian Court as startling 
as possible. It is true that I could have gone away a 


THE SKY BRIGHTENING. 


245 


week ago, but I had a motive in remaining. Can you 
guess what it is, Olla ?” 

The young girl faltered a negative. 

“ You and I, Olla, have had unusual opportunities for 
studying each other,” said Tressilian, with an eager 
earnestness. “These three weeks we have been shut 
up together at Bleak Top are more than equivalent to 
three years of ordinary society intercourse. Besides, 
Olla, you have known me much longer than the brief 
period I have mentioned. You have known me in my 
poorest estate. It is to you I owe what I am to-day. 
But for you I should be a beggar — an idiot — in Sicily, 
this night,” and his voice suddenly trembled. “ But for 
you, Olla, my intellect would have been paralyzed for- 
ever, my father would never have known my fate, and 
no human heart would have mourned for me. I owe to 
your sublime devotion everything — life, health, and what 
is dearer than either, my intellect. God knows I can 
never repay the debt.” 

“ You have no need to be so grateful,” Olla murmured, 
sinking upon the sofa, her sweet face growing very 
white. “I am repaid in seeing you as you are, Guy.” 

“ I am grateful, Olla,” replied Tressilian, with a pas- 
sionate utterance. “A lifetime of devotion to you could 
not show forth my gratitude. But it is not simple grat- 
itude I feel for you. Your matchless devotion ; your 
gentle, tender care of me ; your refusal to abandon me 
in your worst straits ; your grand and noble spirit ; your 
glorious soul — all these have called forth in me a feeling 
deeper than gratitude. Olla” — and his low, passionate 
voice thrilled to the girl’s soul— “ I love you ! I love 
you ! Can you love him whom you have rescued from 
a living death ? Will you make happy the life you have 
saved ?” 

He waited in a great doubt and anxiety for her reply. 


246 


GXJY TRESSILIAN’ S FATE. 


The fear was strong- upon him that her regard for him 
was one of simple kindliness and benevolence. 

“ Speak, Olla !” he said tremulously, as she did not 
answer. “ I have waited here that I might try to win 
your heart. I want to take you to Tressilian Court with 
me as my betrothed wife. Will you go, Olla ?’* 

“You have said that it was your father’s wish that 
you should marry his ward, Guy.” 

“ Such was his wish, Olla, if Blanche and I could love 
each other, but 'he did not desire to force our inclina- 
tions. I have no heart to give Blanche. If you refuse 
me, I shall never marry her ; nor would she accept me, 
knowing that I love another. Let no thought of 
Blanche come between us, Olla. In any case, she can 
never be more to me than a sister. If you will be my 
wife, Olla, I will promise you that my father and 
Blanche shall both give you the tender, loving welcome 
you deserve. You will not send me away to-morrow 
and alone ?” 

His voice trembled with impassioned eagerness. His 
eyes glowed with a love so pure, so strong, so keen, so 
passionate, that the young girl could not meet his gaze. 
Her sweet eyes hid themselves under their white and 
tremulous lids ; the bright carmine deepened in her 
cheeks ; and she drooped her face, that her young lover 
might not read its tell-tale expression. 

“ Speak, Olla !” he urged, in an agony of hope and 
fear. “ The life you have saved will be valueless with- 
out you. Say that 3’ou will be mine !” 

Olla shyly whispered the word he longed to hear, so 
shyly that only a lover’s ear could have caught the 
murmur. Tressilian drew her to his heart in a raptur- 
ous silence. And thus they were betrothed. 

They were sitting in a wrapt silence, broken only by 
the sound of Mrs. Popley’s heavy breathing in the next 


THE SKY BRIGHTENING. 


247 


room, when steps were heard in the hall, and a knock 
sounded upon the door. 

Olla arose from her lover’s side hastily, just as Pop- 
ley entered the room. His face showed an inward 
perturbation which his young mistress was not slow to 
mark. 

“ What is the matter, Popley,” she asked. “ Have you 
been to Gloamvale ?” 

“Yes, Miss Olla,” returned Popley respectfully. “I 
went to the village and did your errand. Mrs. Kipp 
has taken the parcel to your room. I — I have bad 
news for you, Miss Olla.” 

“ Bad news ?” 

“ Yes, Miss Olla. As I was riding back through the 
street of Gloamvale, I saw a po’shay before the door of 
the general dealer’s, and standing on the sidewalk, in 
the full light from the shop was Mr. Gower — ” 

Olla clasped her hands together, the happy glow fad- 
ing from her face. 

“ He has tracked me, then ? O Heaven !” she said 
shudderingly. 

“ His horses were dead tired,” said Popley, “ and 
were not fit to come on. I think he will stop at Gloam- 
vale to-night, and come on to Beak Top in the morn- 
ing. It’s a nasty night to be out in.” 

“ It is well that we are warned in time,” cried Olla. 
“ See that every door and window is secure. Give no 
one admittance to-night, Popley. We must be on our 
guard.” 

Popley bowed assent, and retired to do her bidding. 

Olla turned toward her lover, still with clasped hands, 
and with a face whose piteous look and deadly pallor 
told Tressilian how great a shock the news of Gower’s 
pursuit was to her. 

“ Oh, Guy,” she said, “ I have felt so safe and secure 


248 


guy tressilian’s fate. 


here ! What shall I do ? Mr. Gower is my guardian, 
and can compel me to go with him. Or, he may choose 
to shut me up here at Bleak Top. He is so terrible, so 
cruel, so utterly unscrupulous. I have escaped him 
twice, and I would rather face an uncaged tiger than to 
face him. My courage seems to give way at last. 
There is no time to telegraph to Sir Windham Winn. 
I feel utterly driven at bay at last/' 

“ You have given me the right to protect you, Olla,” 
exclaimed Tressilian, gently supporting her slight 
and trembling figure. “ I will take care of you — ” 

“ But you don’t know Devereux Gower !” breathed 
Olla despairingly. “ He will not let me go home with 
you. He will send you away from Bleak Top, and 
before you can return to me with aid, he will have 
transported me to some spot where you can never find 
me. He loves me in his tigerish way, Guy, and he will 
never cease to persecute me until I am forever beyond 
his reach.” 

“ Then you must be put beyond his reach immedi- 
ately,” cried Tressilian, smiling, yet earnest. “ I don’t 
know what the law is between guardian and ward. Of 
course you can appeal to the law, but law’s delays are 
proverbial ; and while courts are disputing, Mr. Gower 
will persecute you until your life becomes a burden. I 
can see a way out of all this trouble. Olla, dear Olla, 
you have promised to go with me to Tressilian Court as 
my promised wife. Go with me as my wife.” 

“Your wife?” 

“ Yes, darling. Don’t look so frightened. Prove 
your love and trust in me by giving me the right to pro- 
tect you from this villain. Marry me to-morrow morn- 
ing, and give me a husband’s right to protect you.” 

Olla looked startled and bewildered. 

“ This is so sudden !” she faltered, flushing and paling. 


THE SKY BRIGHTENING. 


249 


“We have no special license — no banns have been said. 
It is impossible.” 

“Not so, darling - . We are on the Scottish border. 
A few miles ride will bring us to a Scottish hamlet, 
where we can be married. There are two horses in the 
stable. We can leave Bleak Top at daybreak, and ride 
down the mountain side in quest of a parson ; and when 
Mr. Gower arrives at Bleak Top, we will endeavor to be 
here to meet him. Say that you consent, Olla, to this 
hurried marriage.” 

“ But your father, Guy !” 

“ He has only to look in your face to be delighted 
with our promptness, Olla. He has only to hear our 
story to take you to his heart and bless you. 

But Olla still hesitated. Guy pleaded his cause with 
all the passionate energy of an ardent lover. The 
young girl’s desperate peril at the hands of Mr. Gower 
was, however, his strongest argument. He urged that 
he could protect her efficiently only as her husband. 

The result of his pleadings can be foreseen. With 
her love for him and her fear of Mr. Gower’s enmity 
and pursuit, Olla was driven at last into a shy consent. 

Tressilian gathered his young betrothed in his arms 
in a rapturous joy. 

“ The life you have saved shall be devoted to yon, my 
darling !” he said, and his voice trembled with emotion. 
“You shall never regret this step, Olla. No shadow 
of grief or harm shall ever rest upon you if I can pre- 
vent it.” 

He bowed his handsome, tawny head to her’s and a 
tear dropped upon her forehead close beside the kiss he 
gave her. 

We will not dwell upon the solemn sweetness and 
holy joy of the lovers' interview. Olla had grown to 
love him whom she had saved with all the fervor of her 


250 


GUY TRESSILIAN’S FATE. 


glowing soul. It was a repetition of the old fable, with 
some variation. Her love had endowed the beautiful 
statue with a soul, and she felt that he belonged pecu- 
liarly to her. His glances had power to bring the blushes 
to her cheeks, and to stir her heart with a strange and 
subtle thrilling. And Guy’s love for her, so keen, strong 
and passionate, was full of a tender and holy reverence 
for her which no time could dim, nothing efface. 

For a long time they sat in loving communion, saying 
little, but lovers’ silence is full of speech. 

They were aroused at last by the awakening of Mrs. 
Popley in the inner-room. Tressilian called to her, and 
the faithful old attendant obeyed his summons. 

u I have news for you, Mrs. Popley,” said Guy, with 
his old bright smile. “ Your son has returned from 
Gloamvale, and reportshaving seen Mr. Gower there — ” 
Mrs. Popley uttered a cry of disma}\ 

“ And as Miss Olla is in great danger,” continued 
Tressilian, “ Miss Olla and I have concluded to slip over 
the border in the morning and get married. In the 
afternoon we shall set out for Gloucester, as I want to 
introduce my bride to my father at Tressilian Court on 
Christmas morning.” 

Mrs. Popley’s amazement and joy may be imagined. 
When both had somewhat subsided, and the good 
woman had regained her calmness, Tressilian touched 
the bell. Popley answered the call, and the Baronet’s 
son requested also the attendance of Mrs. Kipp and the 
bashful Christopher. 

The small household was soon gathered in the draw- 
ing-room. Tressilian informed his auditors of Mr. Gow- 
er’s proximity, and of his own plan to defeat the 
schemes of the faithless guardian. He ordered the 
horses to be saddled at daybreak for the intended excur- 
sion, and gathered from Mrs. Kipp the distance to the 


JOINED TOGETHER. 


251 


nearest Scottish hamlet, with full particulars and direc- 
tions for the journey. 

The worthy servitors were loud in their expressions 
of joy at the prospective defeat of Mr. Gower, and loud 
in their congratulations to the young pair. They pres- 
ently retired to talk over the matter below stairs, and 
the lovers were left to themselves. Half an hour later, 
the inmates of Bleak Top had retired to their several 
beds, -but it is doubtful if Tressilian or Olla slept that 
night. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

JOINED TOGETHER. 

The morning subsequent to the betrothal of Olla 
Rymple and Guy Tressilian was in fine contrast to the 
storm and gloom of the preceding night. The fierce 
wind had died out ; the air was unusually mild for the 
season ; and the sky was cloudless — a fine omen for the 
lovers. 

Soon after daybreak, while the morning twilight yet 
lingered in soft gray shadows over the valley at the 
foot of Bleak Mountain, completely blotting out the 
hamlet of Gloamvale from the view of the dwellers at 
Bleak Top, the two rough farm-horses, properly sad- 
dled, were brought around to the horse-block of the 
lonely old mountain house. 

The lovers were at breakfast, eating by lamplight, 
but a few minutes later Guy Tressilian made his 
appearance. He was well attired ; and there was a 
glow on his face and a radiance in his blue, fearless 


252 guy tressilian’s fate. 

eyes, that declared that this was, as it should be, the 
happiest morning of his life. 

Olla presently joined her lover. She had improvised 
a riding-habit, and wore her seal skin jacket and little 
seal-skin cap. But, although she did not wear the tra- 
ditional bridal costume, surely no bride ever looked 
fairer than this lovely, noble, blushing girl. 

Tressilian assisted her into her saddle, and then 
mounted the horse assigned him. 

The small household gathered on the steps, the two 
men with smiles, the two women with tears. 

“ It’s no way for our Miss Olla to be married,” sighed 
Mrs Popley. “ She should ' have a bridal robe and a 
vail, and — ” 

“She shall have all the bridal glories to-morrow, at 
Tressilian Court, Mrs. Popley,” interposed Tressilian, 
smiling. . 

“ And we’ll get up a wedding breakfast for her 
against her return this morning,” declared Mrs. Kipp. 
“We’ll do what we can, Mrs. Popley, and mortal can’t 
do more !” 

This view of the case silenced good Mrs. Popley, and 
soon, amid a chorus of kindly wishes from their humble 
friends, the young lovers set out upon their fateful 
journey. 

As a road led down one side of Bleak Mountain, con- 
ducting to Gloamvale, so a continuation of the same 
road led down the opposite side of the mountain, and 
over the Scottish frontier, conducting to a small Scot- 
tish hamlet, some ten miles distant from Bleak Top, and 
three miles beyond the border. 

To this hamlet the lovers were bound. 

They rode down the mountain side,-over a road that 
was rugged and bad, as might have been expected at 
that season ; but the horses were sure-footed and 


JOINED TOGETHER. 


253 


inured to mountain travel, and did not appear to mind 
their precarious footing. They passed fields covered 
with snow, and now and then a great snowdrift bor- 
dered their road-way. 

“ It is easy to see that we are on the northern side of 
the mountain,” observed Olla. “On the south side the 
roads are in comparatively tolerable condition.” 

“ So much the better for us, Olla,” returned Tressilian, 
“ as we shall have to proceed to Alnwick to catch the 
night train to Gloucester. We shall have to make a 
night journey of our return to Tressilian Court.” 

The circuitous road down the northern side of Bleak 
Mountain comprised some two miles or more of hard 
travel, but the road was by no means level or pleasant 
even after the travellers had left the mountain side. 
The snow still lay in patches ; the ground was frozen 
hard ; there were gullies and mountain streams to trav- 
erse, and one or two bridges were found to be in a dan- 
gerous condition. But the lovers paid no heed to dis- 
comforts and dangers. They were too thoroughly 
happy to care whether their progress were slow or 
fast. 

Yet when once they were over the border and upon 
Scottish soil, both breathed more freely. It seemed as 
if one barrier between them and Mr. Gower had been 
erected already. 

It was about half past eight o’clock, and the sun was 
shining palely from the midst of dull gray clouds, when 
the young couple rode into the stony streets of the little 
Scottish hamlet of Dunmuir. 

Like Gloamvale over the border, Dunmuir was but a 
cluster of stone cottages of primitive design ; but as a 
whole, the hamlet had a picturesque aspect, due, per- 
haps, to the steep roofs, the pert gables, the low door- 
ways and quaint windows. None of the dwellings were 


254 


GUY TRESSILIAN 's FATE. 


elevated more than one step above the street, and most 
of the thresholds were on a level with the ill-paved side- 
walk. As at Gloamvale, there was a rude smithy and a 
general dealer's shop, but the hamlet was too small and 
too seldom visited by travellers to afford an inn. 

At the further end of the street was the little stone 
church, guiltless of spire or bell, and in its shadow, in 
the midst of a gloomy yew-shaded garden, was the old, 
steep-roofed ivy-grown manse. 

“ There is the Mecca of our wanderings,” said Guy 
Tressilian, indicating the church. “ A few minutes will 
bring us to it.” 

They rode up the street, the horses’ hoofs clattering 
loudly upon the stones. Visitors at Dunmuir were not 
frequent, as was evident by the faces that thronged the 
windows and doors as the young couple rode by. Pres- 
ently they arrived at the garden gate of the manse, and 
dismounted. Tressilian secured the horses to a couple 
of wooden posts, and giving Olla his arm, conducted 
her to the manse door, upon which he knocked loudly. 

The minister's wife, an elderly, round-faced lady, 
wearing a cap, gave them admittance. Seeming to 
comprehend the errand of- the young pair, she smil- 
ingly invited them into the prim manse parlor, and 
summoned her husband. 

The minister, Mr. McDougal, a gray-haired student- 
like personage, with a stoop in his broad shoulders, 
made his appearance. Tressilian introduced Olla and 
himself, and stated his errand. 

Mrs. McDougal was all sympathy at once, and her 
husband interposed no objections to performing the 
marriage ceremony for these young strangers. 

“You are in haste, you say ?” the minister said, in a 
mild, paternal voice. “ Would you like to be married in 
• the church ?” 


JOINED TOGETHER. 


255 


“ I should prefer it/’ said Olla, blushing-. 

“ I will open the church," said Mrs. McDougal, tak- 
ing down a massive key from the wall. “You can fol- 
low soon with the young couple, Donald.’’ 

She went out, crossing the garden, and entering the 
church at its rear door 

A few minutes later, Mr. McDougal conducted the 
bridal pair by the same route into the church. 

It was a very plain church interior, and very quaint. 
There was no stained glass, no carved altar, no stately 
organ. The windows were fitted with small colorless 
panes ; the walls were simply whitewashed ; and the 
tall-backed, square pews and the sounding-board seemed 
to belong to a past generation. 

To Olla’s dismay, the front church-door had been 
thrown open, and a dozen villagers had entered the 
house, eagerly intent upon witnessing the ceremony. 
The blacksmith in his shirt sleeves, the shopkeeper, 
several laborers and a few women made up the small 
assemblage. 

The minister ascended to his plain desk, and Olla 
Rymple and Guy Tressilian took their places before 
him, the motherly Mrs. McDougal stationing herself at 
Olla’s side to encourage the trembling girl. 

The brief service of the Presbyterian church was soon 
over. The words were spoken that joined Olla and 
Guy together, to be no more separated while life should 
last. 

“I pronounce you man and wife," concluded Mr. Mc- 
Dougal, his solemn voice ringing through the little 
church ; “ and whom God has joined together, let not 
man put asunder ! Let us pray." 

Then followed a brief and simple prayer for the future 
of the young husband and wife. 

At its close, Mr. McDougal came down from his desk 


256 


GUT TRESSILIAN S FATE. 


and kissed the lovely young bride, and shook hands with 
the groom. Mrs. McDougal followed her husband’s 
example ; after which the simple, honest villagers 
thronged about the pair, offering their congratulations. 

Mr. McDougal retired into the vestry and wrote out a 
marriage certificate, which he brought out into the 
church for the signature of witnesses. . Mrs. McDougal, 
the blacksmith, the shopkeeper and two women 
appended their names. The minister then conducted 
the new-married pair back to the manse, and entertained 
them with gooseberry wine and cakes. 

Tressilian, who had found some thirty pounds in the 
purse of Jasper Lowder, pressed two-thirds of the 
amount upon the surprised and delighted minister, and 
at nine o’clock the young couple remounted, and started 
upon their return to Bleak Top. 

Some two hours later, they alighted at the horse-block 
of the isolated mountain house. The Popleys and the 
Kipps ran out to meet them, every face aglow. 

Tressilian assisted his young bride to alight, and led 
her to Mrs. Popley, saying, with a smile : 

“ Mrs. Popley, allow me to introduce to you my bride, 
Mrs. Guy Tressilian.” 

A cry of joy went up from the hearts of the faithful 
old friends and servitors of Olla. The young couple 
were overwhelmed with congratulations. 

“ Mr. Gower hasn’t come yet,” exclaimed Mrs. Popley, 
as Christopher Kipp hurried the horses to the stable. 
“ The wedding breakfast is ready. Mr. Gower can come 
just as soon as he pleases. We are ready for him.” 

Olla made her escape to her own room, and donned 
her brown travelling dress. Presently she descended 
to the drawing-room, where Tressilian was alone, await- 
ing her. ' 

He was standing by the hearth, but turned abruptly 


JOINED TOGETHER. 


257 


toward her as she came in shyly and blushingly, and 
held out his arms to her, his handsome face-radiant with 
a joy beyond all power of expression. 

“ My bride ! My wife !” he whispered, as her little, 
noble head lay on his breast. “ No trouble can come to 
you now, while I have power to ward it off. A lifetime 
of tenderness and love shall be your reward for your 
matchless devotion !” 

They were standing thus when Popley knocked loudly 
upon the door, announcing the wedding breakfast. 

Arm in arm the pair proceeded to the dining-room. 

The table, considering the limited time and materials 
at the disposal of Mrs. Popley and Mrs. Kipp, presented 
a very festal appearance. It was adorned with wreaths 
and vases of evergreen, whose spicy odor pervaded the 
room. There was no bride-cake, as Mrs. Popley loudly 
lamented, but there were other varieties of cake, and, 
what Olla and Guy better appreciated after their ride, 
roasted game, fried chickens, hot bread, coffee and tea, 
and hot mulled wine, well spiced. 

The bridal couple praised the feast, and proceeded to 
do justice to it in a manner that delighted their attend- 
ants. 

They were still lingering at the table when a thunder- 
ing knock sounded upon the front door. Popley turned 
pale and hurried away. He presently returned, saying : 

“ Mr. Gower has arrived, Miss Olla, He is in the 
drawing-room, and demands to see you immediately.” 

“ We will see him,” said Tressilian. “ Popley, have 
the horses harnessed in an hour, to convey us on our 
journey. We will procure a change of horses and vehi- 
cle at Alnham, and Kipp can bring these home.” 

He arose quietly, as did Olla, who took his arm, and 
the pair proceeded to the drawing-room. 

Mr. Gower was pacing the room after the manner of 


258 


GUY TRESSILIAN’s FATE. 


a caged bear. As Olla and Guy entered, he stopped and 
faced them, with a triumphal sneer on his sensual lips 

“ So I have found you, have I ?” he demanded, with 
an air of exultation. “You evaded me well that second 
time at Palermo, Olla, but you find that I am not long- 
outwitted. Why don’t you speak ? Does my appearance 
strike you dumb ?” 

“ You will be careful how you address this lady, sir !’’ 
said Tressilian haughtily. “ A more respectful tone 
will conduce to your benefit.” 

Mr. Gower started, and stared at the Baronet's son. 

The change in Tressilian since he last saw him struck 
him at once. The noble face, aglow with intellect, 
seemed to have little in common with the sad, vacant 
countenance he so well remembered. 

“ Ha !” he ejaculated. “ Is this your idiot, Olla ? 
What — who — 

“ When you saw me last, I was under a cloud,” said 
Tressilian, with haughty sternness. “ Since my return 
to England — thanks to Olla — I have been under surgical 
care, and have recovered my senses completely.” 

“ Indeed !” cried Gower, a look of rage and chagrin 
crossing his amazed countenance. “Your mind is 
restored ! Why, Doctor Spezzo said your restoration 
was impossible. I suppose you are aware that I am this 
young lady’s guardian. As such, I order you to loose 
your hold upon her immediately. Olla, are you so lost 
to self-respect as to cling to this fellow ? I shall be 
compelled to exercise my rightful authority — ” 

“ All that is over now,” interposed Tressilian calmly. 
“ I am this young lady’s guardian now.” 

“ You her guardian ! By what right ?” 

“ The right of a husband !” said Tressilian composedly 
and sternly. “ We were married this morning over the 
border, at the Scottish hamlet of Dunmuir !” 


JOINED TOGETHER. 


250 


Gower uttered a hoarse cry of rage, caught at the 
air blindly, and staggered to the nearest chair. 

“ Married !” he gasped. “ Married !” 

“ Yes. Would you like to see the certificate in proof 
of my assertion ? If so, here it is !” 

Tressilian took the slip of paper from his pocket and 
exhibited it to Gower. The latter glanced it over and 
let it fall to the floor. The young bridegroom picked 
it up, restoring it to his person. 

“ Married !” repeated Gower hollowly. “ It’s all up, 
then ? Oh, if I could but have come on to Bleak Top last 
night ! If I could but have got a horse earlier this 
morning ! Too late ! Too late !” 

“Yes, it is too late for you to talk of love to 
Olla,” said Tressilian. “ The time for all that — for 
your persecutions of your young ward — for your plans 
to force her into a hateful marriage with yourself — the 
time for these is past for ever. We have admitted 
you into the house this morning that you might com- 
prehend your utter defeat. We leave the place within 
an hour. You will oblige us by going now.” 

Mr. Gower lifted his haggard face, now flushing with 
rage and defiance. 

“ One moment, Mr. Jasper Lowder,” he said, in a 
hard and bitter voice. “ Before you order me out of 
your house, let me tell you who I am. But first let me 
tell Miss Olla whom she has married. Your noble 
bridegroom, Mrs. Lowder, is a beggar, a wretched, pen- 
niless fellow, whom you will be obliged to support 
throughout the term of his natural life — provided you 
decide to cling to him. There is a young woman in the 
neighborhood, however, who is now wailing over her 
dead child, who has a prior claim to your husband by 
virtue of a marriage abroad. What have you to say to 
that r 


260 


GUT TRESSILIAn’s FATE. 


“That it is false, like most of your statements,” 
replied Olla scornfully. 

“You think so? You would not be my wife — how 
will you like to be my daughter-in-law, the wife of my 
bigamist son ? For Jasper Lowder, your handsome 
bridegroom, is my unacknowledged son, Madam. The 
relationship will do him little good, however, let me 
tell you both, for I will never publicly acknowledge 
him, nor will I ever give him one penny of my money. 
I shall leave to you two women — you Olla, and the first 
wife — the settlement of your claims upon him, unless 
you choose to appeal to the law to punish your gay 
Lothario for bigamy. But,” he added, “ if you begin 
to shrink from the villain you have wedded, I am will- 
ing to befriend you still.” 

To this tirade Tressilian listened with keen attention, 
light breaking in upon his mind, as he remembered the 
story Lowder had told him upon the deck of the Sar- 
dinian vessel, on that stormy night when the two young 
men were first introduced to our readers. 

“ So you are Mr. ‘ Devereux ’ Gower, the father of 
Jasper Lowder !” he exclaimed. “ I have heard of you 
before. Your son, Mr. Gower, is at Tressilian Court, in 
Gloucestershire, under an assumed identity. My name 
is Guy Tressilian !” 

Mr. Gower repeated the name in an amazement. 

“You are not Jasper Lowder?” he said faintly, with 
an expression of utter stupefaction. 

“ I have not that infamy. I am the son of Sir Arthur 
Tressilian. Your son, Mr. Gower, is at Tressilian 
Court in my name. He believes me an imbecile, and 
has seized upon my name and place, making them his 
own. Mrs. Tressilian and I leave for the Court imme- 
diately, and I shall have the pleasure of confronting 


JOINED TOGETHER. 


261 


Mr. Jasper Lowder Gower in my father’s presence, and 
exposing him as he deserves.” 

For a few moments Mr. Gower sat in silence, the bit- 
terness of his unexpected defeat weighing upon his soul 
with a crushing force. Olla was forever beyond his 
reach. Jasper Lowder was in danger of the law, and 
should those whom he had so foully wronged prosecute 
him as he deserved, the penalty for his wrong-doing 
would not be light. In the event of Lowder’s trial, 
since Mr. Gower had proclaimed himself Lowder’s 
father, the name of Devereux Gower would be stained 
with infamy and disgrace. 

After a while the discomfited villain looked up with 
haggard, restless eyes, and said : 

“ Olla, if you will forget the past, I will. The won i 
need not know our private troubles. And as to Low- 
der — I am going with you to Tressilian Court. I have 
a curiosity to see the fellow, and I wish to be on hand 
when he is disposed of.” 

Olla and Guy made no objection to this resolve, and 
half an hour later, when the young bridal pair, with the 
faithful Popleys, quitted Bleak Top, starting on their 
journey, Devereux Gower followed them on horseback. 
At Alnham, Tressilian procured a post-chaise, sending 
back the Bleak Top vehicle in charge of Kipp, and con- 
tinued his journey, with his bride, to Alnwick, from 
which town he set out by train for Gloucester. Mr. 
Gower took a place in the next compartment ; and in 
the same train, arriving at Alnwick station at the last 
moment, was poor, heart-broken Hester Lowder ! 

Truly that night train steaming southward was bear- 
ing confusion to Jasper Lowder ! 



CHAPTER XXV. 

A TERRIBLE UNDOING. 

It was Christmas morning — bright, clear and frosty, 
with keen, crisp air, and cool, wintry sunshine. Nature 
had done her best to give England a “ Merry Christ- 
mas,” and all over the land the Christmas chimes were 
ringing, and rich and poor were making merry in 
honor of the great festival of the year. 

It had been from time immemorial the custom at 
Tressilian Court to celebrate Christmas-day, and, 
although the hearts of Sir Arthur and Blanche were 
heavy and sorrowful, they were not willing to depart 
entirely from the time-honored custom. 

No guests had been invited to the Court, but liberal 
gifts had been sent to the poor of Ardleigh, and 
Blanche had adorned the dining-room with wreaths, 
mottoes, and designs of evergreens, in the midst of 
whose spicy verdure holly berries glowed like tiny balls 
of fire. An appropriate dinner, including the necessary 
Christmas plum-pudding had been ordered, and here 
ended all preparations in honor of the day at Tressilian 
Court. 

At about nine o’clock on this Christmas morning, a 
fly from Gloucester drove into the court-yard of the 
Tressilian Arms at Ardleigh, and a young woman, 
[262] 


A TERRIBLE UNDOING. 


263 


attired in black, her face shrouded by a heavy mourning 
vail, alighted and entered the inn. 

This young woman was Hester Lowder. 

A servant conducted her up stairs to the inn parlor, 
and the landlord came to her presently. She arose from 
the hearth, beside which she had seated herself in a 
crouching attitude, and without removing her vail, 
inquired if a gentleman named John Harroville was 
stopping there. 

“No such person here, or in Ardleigh, ma’am,” 
was the reply of the worthy landlord. 

“ Is — is there a gentleman at Tressilian Court named 
Jasper Lowder asked the wronged young wife, in a 
faltering voice. 

“ There may be, ma’am. I don’t know,” returned the 
innkeeper. “ If the gentleman you seek is a friend of 
Sir Arthur Tressilian or Mr. Guy, you’ll find him or 
hear of him at the Court. Shall 1 send a messenger for 
you ?” 

The childless young wife shook her head, and said 
simply that she would walk to the Court. Declining all 
proffers of a vehicle or of a guide, she took her departure 
from the inn, and set out at once for Tressilian Court on 
foot and alone. 

Moving wearily down the village street, past the 
closed shops, past groups of carolling children, past the 
picturesque stone church, through whose open doors 
glimpses might be had of Christmas decorations in full 
progress of manufacture at the hands of merry-voiced 
young girls and lover-like attendants, Hester gained the 
open country. She glided like a shadow along the gray, 
wintry road, with its bare, leafless hedges on either side, 
but for her the morning had no sunshine, no glow, no 
brightness. 

When at last she reached the small gate in the high 


264 


GUY TRESSILIAN’S FATE. 


wall of Tressilian Park, at which she had seen her hus- 
band upon the occasion of her former visit to the Court, 
she halted, as if expecting to see him awaiting her there. 
But the gate was locked, and only a blank wall met her 
gaze. 

With a moaning sigh, she hurried swiftly and silently 
on, not stopping again until she reached the gate lodge 
of the Court. At the door of the lodge she halted and 
knocked. The lodge-keeper gave her admittance, look- 
ing wonderingly upon the black-robed, shrinking figure, 
in such strong contrast to the joyous morning. 

“ Can you tell me,” asked Hester, in her soft, flutter- 
ing voice, “ if there is a gentleman at Tressilian Court 
named Jasper Lowder ?” 

“There ain’t no such gentleman there, ma’am,” 
replied the lodge-keeper. “ There’s no guests at the 
Court this year, more’s the pity.” 

“ Not there ! not at the Court ! Oh, pitying Heaven, 
what shall I do 

The wild cry went to the soul of the old woman who 
tended the lodge gates. 

“ Is the . gentleman your relation, ma’am ?” she 
inquired, i:i a tone of honest sympathy. 

“ He is my husband. He was Mr. Tressilian’s travel- 
ling companion — ” 

“ Sure, then, Mr. Tressilian can tell you where he is. 
You’ve come in good time, ma’am. The family haven’t 
started for church yet, nor won’t under an hour. Won’t 
you sit down and rest yourself ?” 

“ No, no. I will go on to the Court, as you suggest. 
Mr. Tressilian will surely know where he is. Thank 
you for your kindness, but I must go.” 

Full of pity for the singular young visitor, and for- 
bearing to question her, the lodge-keeper conducted her 


A TERRIBLE UNDOING. 


265 


to the door opening into the home grounds of the 
Court, and directed Hester how to reach the house. 

Obeying these directions, the wronged wife glided 
along a garden path shaded by thick growing firs and 
larches, and came out upon the wide grand avenue near 
the principal porch of the dwelling. She mounted the 
tall flight of stone steps guarded by stone lions, and 
sounded the massive knocker. 

A tall footman in livery opened the door. 

“ Is Mr. Guy Tressilian at home ?” the young wife 
faltered, one black-gloved hand clinging to the door- 
post. 

The footman answered in the affirmative, and Hester 
moved feebly into the grand hall. 

“ I — I wish to see him,” she said. 

The footman bowed, and ushered the visitor into the 
morning room, inquiring : 

“ What name shall I say, Madam ?” 

“ No name. I — I — Mr. Tressilian does not know 
me. Say a stranger.” 

The servant bowed respectfully, and withdrew to 
seek Jasper Lowder and inform him that a young 
woman, in deep mourning and great distress, had come 
to him for assistance. 

The morning room was bright and cosy and warm. 
The sun came in through the lace curtains at the win- 
dow. The fire burned and glowed with dancing flames. 
The vases upon the low marble mantel-piece were 
crowded with fresh flowers from the conservatory, and 
their fragrance filled the summer-like air. The pictures 
in the room were framed in laurel wreaths, in honor of 
the day. But all this warmth and brightness were 
unappreciated by the bereaved girl mother. She 
shivered with the inward chill that came from her 
heart. 


266 


GUY TRESSILIAN’S FATE. 


Presently a quick, careless tread was heard in the 
hall, the door opened, and Jasper LoWder entered the 
room. 

He had attired himself for church in one of the hand- 
somest of his Paris suits. A contented smile was on 
his face, a complacent expression in his eyes. He knew 
nothing as yet of that fatal discovery of Sir Arthur’s — 
the scar which the Baronet had sought upon his wrist 
and failed to find — and he believed that all his schemes 
were working well, and that he had swept the last 
obstacle from his path of wrong-doing. 

He approached the vailed, black-robed visitor with a 
jaunty debonair expression. 

“ My servant said you wished to see me, Madam,” he 
observed, with condescension. “ This is Christmas 
morning, and you will not be sent away empty-handed. 
What can I do for you ?” 

Slowly Hester Lowder arose from her chair. She 
took one step toward him, and threw back her heavy 
black vail, disclosing a face from which all girlish 
brightness had fled — a face so wan, so woeful, so piteous, 
that Jasper Lowder started back, scarcely recogniz- 
ing it. 

The next moment, a wild cry springing from her lips, 
a light breaking through the gloom on her face, the 
young wife bounded forward, and flung herself, half 
fainting, upon his breast. 

A look of terror convulsed Lowder’s features, and a 
frightful oath escaped his lips. He would have flung 
her from him, but that she clung to him so desperately, 
with such despairing, anguished hold. 

“What is the meaning of this wild freak ?” he ejacu- 
lated harshly. “ Did I not tell you not to come here 
again ?” 

Hester lifted her head as if a serpent had stung her 


A TERRIBLE UNDOING. 


267 


but the next moment, drooping her head again to the 
breast that should have been her shield and bulwark, 
she began to sob wildly between her sudden joy at 
seeing him, and her awful grief at the loss of her child. 

“ Oh, Jasper !” she sobbed. “ They said you were not 
here. I asked for Mr. Tressilian, and you have come 
to me. Tell me, has he forgiven you ?” 

“ Yes, yes. Don’t speak so loud. Some one may 
hear you.” 

“ He has forgiven you and taken you back ! God has 
heard my prayers. Oh, Jasper ! I have prayed night and 
morning that Mr. Tressilian would pardon and love you 
again. I have been so anxious, Jasper, about you !” 

“ Well, what it you have ? It seems to me, if you 
think so much of me, you could do as I tell you. I 
ordered you to stay at Gloam Fell, and here you are 
again spying after me — ” 

“ Oh, Jasper !” moaned the unhappy young wife, shud- 
dering as with an ague, and uplifting her pallid, tear- 
drenched, woeful face in piteous pleading. “ I shall die 
if you speak so harshly to me. I have only come to you 
because my heart is breaking, and I have no one in all 
the wide earth to go to but you. I am in sore trouble. 
I have brought you bad news.” 

“ Bad news !” cried Lowder, his thoughts reverting to 
the letter he had received from Palestro, announcing 
Guy Tressilian's return to England, and a gray pallor 
settling down upon his visage. “ Speak. What is it?” 

“ Prepare yourself for the saddest news you can hear, 
Jasper!” said the unconscious young wife, feeling his 
heart rise and fall in quick, convulsive bounds. “ Oh, 
my poor husband ! Our boy — ” 

“ Our boy !” ejaculated Lowder, in sudden relief. 
“ The bad news concerns him then ? I thought — ” 

He checked himself abruptly. 


268 


GUY TRESSILIAN’S FATE. 


“ Does not my mourning dress tell you the story ?” 
asked the young wife, in her sorrowing voice. “ Our 
baby, Jasper — our bright, .blue-eyed boy, with his sweet 
ways, his lovely face, his loving baby soul is — dead T 

“ Dead ?” 

“ It seems impossible to you as to me, dearest, but he 
is dead. He died the night before last. He is lying 
now in his little crib at Gloam Fell, in his white 
night-gown, his tiny hands crossed, a smile on his 
tiny face. Oh, my husband,” and the piteous voice 
'broke into a low, mournful wail, “ I have only 
you now ! I wanted you to see him before they bury 
him out of our sight forever. I knew you would not 
forgive me if they put our baby under those terrible 
snows without giving you the chance to look on his 
baby face once more. You did not answer the letters I 
sent yop, and I had no way of getting you there in time, 
without coming for you myself.” 

“ The child is dead !” said Lowder, thinking more of 
himself than of the sorrowing young mother. “ Well, 
perhaps it is just as well — ” 

“Jasper !” 

“ I mean it, Hester. There’s no use in being foolish 
and sentimental. Children are incumbrances anyway. 
Of course it’s hard on you, but death is the inevitable 
lot, and it is better for the child to die when he’s 
little than to grow up to be a disappointment to you.” 

“ He never would have been that,” breathed the 
young wife, with all a mother’s tender and steadfast 
faith. “ My boy ! my beautiful boy ! So tender, so 
pure, so lovely ! My whole soul mourns for him ! You 
are all I have in the whole wide world now, Jasper !” 
she said again, clinging to him yet more closely, as if 
confident that, despite all his harshness, his love and 
tenderness would not fail her in her hour of trouble. 


A TERRIBLE UNDOING. 


269 


In spite of himself, Lowder’s hard heart was touched 
by her unswerving faith in him. His better nature 
asserted itself. It is true that his heart had turned 
from Hester, that he loved golden-haired Blanche with 
passionate fervor, and that he contemplated an act of ter- 
rible treachery to both these women— that of making 
Blanche his wife while Hester yet lived — yet now he felt 
something of his old affection for Hester thrill his heart. 
She was his wife. Her head had lain in his bosom. 
She had been the mother of his child. She had been 
the only one in all the world, except his own dead 
mother, who had ever really loved him. And now she 
mourned in desolation and anguish for his dead son. 
All these thoughts crowded into Lowder’s soul, evoking 
a feeling of tenderness and pity for her. 

He drew her to a silken couch in a corner near the 
hearth, and gently gathered her to his bosom. 

“ My poor Hester !” he said, caressing softly her hair 
from which her hat had fallen back. “ My poor wife ! 
Forgive my harshness. I have many things to trouble 
me. I grieve with you. I had formed many plans for 
our boy. I am sorry I cannot go back with you to 
Gloam Fell — ” 

“ What ! Are you not going ?” 

“ I cannot. You must trust me, Hester, trust my 
love and faith. Mr. Tressilian needs me, and I dare 
not ask leave of absence, even to bury our boy. You 
must go back alone, and at once.” 

The poor young wife sighed. 

“Alone ! Alone ! Oh, my husband !” 

“ If you love me, you must do as I say. I am not yet 
upon an assured footing here. I cannot introduce you 
to my patron or his family. I want you to go quietly, 
without speaking a word of me even in the village. 
Where is your cab ?” 


270 


GUY TKESSILIAN’S FATE. 


“ At the inn at Ardleigh.” 

“ You must hasten to the village immediately. Do 
you need money ?” 

Hester shook her head. 

“You will need some for burial expenses. Here — 
take my purse,” and he thrust it in her pocket. “You 
must not be seen here. Go back to Gloam Fell, and 
remain there till I come for you. And now you must go.” 

“ But, Jasper, I do not understand — ” 

“ I will explain everything some time. I will come 
to see you soon. Now you must go.” 

The young wife arose wearily, her wan, white face 
wearing a pitiful look of anguish. She moved two or 
three steps across the floor, and then tottered back, 
with a great cry, and flung herself in Lowder’s arms. 

“ My heart is breaking !” she moaned piteously. 

“ Bear up, Hester. Be brave. In Heaven’s name, 
would you ruin me ? I tell you your longer presence 
here will be my ruin !” 

“I will go, Jasper. Heaven knows I would die 
rather than bring harm to you. One last kiss, Jasper. 
I am going.” 

Their lips met in the final caress. Hester clung to 
him as to her last tangible hope, sobbing and weeping 
in an utter desolation and despair. 

They were standing thus, when the catastrophe Jas- 
per Lowder had feared came upon the usurper. 

The door opened, and Blanche and Sir Arthur, attired 
for church, and quite unconscious that the room was 
occupied, came into the room. 

At sight of Lowder and his wife in the midst of that 
final embrace, both Sir Arthur and Blanche started 
back in horror and amazement. 

At the same moment Lowder became conscious of 
the presence of the intruders, and recoiled several 


271 


A <( MERRY CHRISTMAS.” 

paces, nearly flinging his wife to the floor. His eyes 
seemed starting from their sockets, and all things 
reeled around him. 

And thus the four, every one nearly paralyzed, stood 
staring at each other. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

A “MERRY CHRISTMAS.” 

For a few moments each member of the little group 
remained as if transfixed where they stood. Sir Arthur 
looked from Lowder to Hester and back again. At last 
he turned and offered Blanche his arm, saying, in a 
tone indicative of a chill displeasure : 

“ I think we had better withdraw, my dear. This is 
no place for you.” 

Poor Hester looked into the grave, stern face of the 
Baronet, and then toward her husband. Lowder was 
completely overwhelmed by the disaster that had over- 
taken him. His face, overspread with an ashen pallor, 
his gasping breath, his convulsed features, all declared 
that he had not yet attained his self-command. His 
terror and agitation brought to Hester’s mind his 
declaration that her presence at Tressilian Court, if 
known, would ruin him. 

Forgetful of herself in her anxiety for her husband, 
the timid young wife sprang toward the door, inter- 
cepting the retreat of Sir Arthur and Blanche, and 
standing before them with clasped hands and pleading, 
upraised face. 

“ Don’t be angry with him !” she cried piteously. “It 


272 


GUY TRESSILIAN'S FATE. 


is all my fault. I ought not to have come to Tressilian 
Court — he told me not to — but my baby, my poor baby 
is dead !” 

Blanche dropped her hand from her guardian's arm. 
Her soul thrilled with pity for this slender, mourning, 
young creature. 

“ It is Mrs. Lowder !” exclaimed Sir Arthur, recog- 
nizing the pleading stranger. 

“Yes, it is I, Hester Lowder — ” 

“ Not another word !” interposed her husband, in a 
quick, harsh voice. “ I will make the necessary explan- 
ations. You must go.” 

“ And leave you to Sir Arthur’s displeasure ?” cried 
the generous wife. “ Never, never, Jasper ! It is all 
my fault. You will not be angry with him, Sir Arthur, 
because I ventured here !” 

The Baronet took a step nearer Hester. 

“ What did you call him ?” he demanded. 

Lowder repeated his command to his wife to depart. 
But Hester, believing that her pleadings would remove 
the Baronet’s unaccountable displeasure at her pres- 
ence, would not go. 

“ I called him Jasper,” she said. “ He — ” 

Lowder drowned her voice by a loud cry, and bounded 
toward her, grasping her arm with a violence that 
made her wince with pain. 

“Not another word,” he hissed, “ if you would not 
have me hate you.” 

“ Oh, Jasper ?” the wronged young wife cried involun- 
tarily. “ Oh, my husband ?” 

“ Your husband ?” ejaculated Sir Arthur. 

“ Your husband !” exclaimed Blanche. 

“ I thought,” said the Baronet sternly, “ that your 
name was Lowder, and that you were the wife of my 
son's travelling companion ?” 


273 


A “ MERRY CHRISTMAS.’’ 

“I am — lam! Jasper, don’t hurt me so! I am 
Hester Lowdei', Sir Arthur, the wife of Jasper Lowder. 
If you would call your son, sir, Mr. Guy Tressilian, he 
would befriend us.” 

“ Ah ! And who is the man who is grasping your 
arm so tightly, Mrs. Lowder ?” exclaimed Sir Arthur, 
in a sudden and terrible agitation. 

“ He — don’t Jasper ! — he is my husband, of course. 
He is Jasper Lowder !” 

A strange cry came from the Baronet’s lips. It 
sounded like a prayer of thanksgiving. 

It was echoed by Blanche, who sank down upon the 
nearest chair suddenly strengthless. 

Jasper Lowder flung his wife violently from him. 

“ The woman is mad !” he cried. “ Her troubles 
have upset her mind. You do not credit her wretched 
vagary, father — ” 

At this juncture a fierce tattoo sounded upon the 
front door. An impatient hand was evidently plying 
the knocker. Had any of the group in the bright morn- 
ing room looked from the window, they would have seen 
a carriage standing before the door, having come quietly 
up the drive, and would have beheld three persons 
standing upon the house steps. 

But not one member of the group stirred. They were 
too absorbed in the scene in which they were actors to 
heed any sound without. 

“ Father !” repeated Hester Lowder, in a bewildered 
voice, looking from the usurper to the Baronet. “Jas- 
per, have you found your father? Is Sir Arthur Tres- 
silian your father ?” 

“ No — a thousand times no !” thundered the Baronet. 
“ This man is no son oh mine. My instinct has always 
revolted from him. I had proved him an impostor and 
usurper before your arrival — ” 


274 


GUY TRESSILIAN’S FATE. 


At this juncture the room door was opened, and two 
persons quietly entered — Guy Tressilian and his bride ! 

Behind them, in the door-way and unobserved, stood 
Devereux Gower, a mocking smile on his face, a restless 
glitter in his eyes. 

Just within the room, Guy and Olla paused. The 
former had removed his hat, and stood before them tall, 
straight and handsome, the light of intellect in his 
glorious blue eyes, and a joyous glow on his face. 

He spoke no word, but bestowed a scathing look upon 
the man who had stolen his birthright. Then he turned 
his gaze upon Sir Arthur. 

As he encountered the glance from those sunny eyes, 
as his eager eyes almost devoured that noble face, the 
father’s heart, that had seemed frozen within him, broke 
its icy fetters and bounded with strange new warmth 
and life. It was not needful that Guy should speak. It 
was not needful that he should declare his identity. 
Sir Arthur knew him, and with a great cry bounded 
forward and clasped him to his breast. 

“ Guy !” he cried. “ My son ! my son !” 

We will not dwell upon the joy of that glad reunion. 
The son had come back to his own, noble, brave and 
high-souled, and his father welcomed him as one from 
the dead. 

Blanche and Olla wept in sympathy. 

Jasper Lowder looked at windows and doors, and saw 
no way of escape. He sat down, pallid and trembling, 
a guilty flush on his cheek, and an apprehensive glare 
in his eyes. His sin had found him out, and it only 
remained to meet his punishment. 

It was long before the reunited father and son had 
thought of others than themselves. But at length Guy 
gently disengaged himself from his father’s clasp, 
and taking Olla’s hand, drew her near to Sir Arthur. 


A “ MERRY CHRISTMAS.” 275 

“ Father,” he said, in his rich, winning” voice. “ I 
have an explanation to make to you. I was*wounded 
in the head in my shipwreck on the Sicilian shore ; I 
awaked to life an idiot — a helpless, downright idiot. 
I have been friendless, forlorn, and near to death. That 
I have my mind again — that I am living to-day — is due 
to this noble girl at my side. She is my preserver, my 
guardian, my benefactress. In her own dark hours of 
peril, she would not forsake the helpless imbecile whose 
only claim upon her was that of a common humanity. 
It is she you have to thank for seeing me again in this 
life.” 

Sir Arthur stretched out his hand in warm impul- 
siveness to Olla. The small, dark, beautiful face glowed 
under his glances ; the dusky velvety eyes regarded 
him pleadingly, but Olla’s hand did not move forward 
to meet his. 

“ Father,” continued Guy, his voice tremulous with a 
great emotion, “ Olla is more to me than guardian or 
benefactress. She is my wife !” 

Sir Arthur started with astonishment, but the tender 
smile on his face grew tenderer, and the light in his eyes 
grew kindlier, as he drew the young girl to his breast 
and kissed the shy, sweet little face. 

“ My daughter !” he said, with fatherly kindness, his 
voice as tremulous as Guy’s had been, “you are wel- 
come to our home and to our hearts. This is a happy 
surprise to me. This is the happiest Christmas I ever 
knew !” 

He kissed her again, and released her. Olla felt that 
he had taken her to his heart, and installed her in his 
affections, all unknown to him as she was, and that she 
had gained a father as well as a husband. 

Guy drew his wife’s arm in his, and led her toward 
Blanche, who received them with smiles and tears. 


276 


GUY TRESSILIAN S FATE. 


“ Blanche,” he said simply, “ I bring you a sister. 
Olla, this is Blanche, of whom I have told you.” 

The two girls embraced each other tenderly. 

Leaving them together, Guy Tressilian regarded his 
false friend and former companion with a stern, sad 
gaze. 

Lowder trembled like a leaf in the breeze, and arose, 
approaching Tressilian, his eyes downcast before that 
stern accusing look. 

‘‘Jasper Lowder !” uttered Tressilian, in a sorrowful 
voice. “ Is it thus we meet again ?” 

A great sob burst from Lowder’s heaving breast. He 
put up his hands blindly. 

“ Oh, Guy, Guy !” he cried, his features working, “ I 
thank Heaven you are saved and brought back to your 
own ! As God is my judge, I have always mourned for 
you. I thought 3 7 ou the same as dead. I was poor, and 
thrown by your affliction again upon the world ; the 
temptation was greater than I could resist. I am guilty 
— guilty a thousandfold. Retribution has overtaken 
me at last, as I have always secretly feared it would. 
Again I say I am glad that your mind has been restored, 
and that you have come back. I deserve any punishment 
the law will inflict. I have cheated, wronged and robbed 
Sir Arthur. I have imposed upon innocent Blanche, 
and would have married her, when I have a wife already. 
I suppose,” he added despairingly, “ that you have an 
officer without. I see some one at the door. Let him 
come in and take me !” 

Hester Lowder uttered a wild shriek, and rushing 
forward, cast herself at the feet of Sir Arthur Tressil- 
ian. She had comprehended the whole scene. 

“ Oh, spare him !” she pleaded, her voice breaking 
with a desperate anguish. “Spare him, Sir Arthur. 
Spare him, Mr. Tressilian. He did not know what he 


277 


A <C MERKY CHRISTMAS. ” 

did. Spare him for my sake. He is all I have in the 
world. And I love him ! In spite of all, I love him !” 

Sir Arthur did not answer. 

“ Father,” said Guy gently, a sudden moisture in his 
blue eyes, “ if this poor, wronged young wife can for- 
give the husband who deserted her, and who would 
have married another, can we not forgive him ?” 

Sir Arthur bowed his head. 

“ He can go !” he said. “ The only punishment he 
will receive for his wrong-doing will come from his own 
remorse. Mrs. Lowder, your love for him has won his 
immunity from justice !” 

Hester Lowder arose and kissed the Baronet’s hand 
and breathed her thanks. Jasper Lowder looked like 
one who has received a pardon when upon the scaffold. 
He muttered his gratitude, and taking Hester’s hand 
moved toward the door. 

He had advanced but two or three paces, when he 
halted, breathing hard. The door had been flung wide 
open, and upon the threshold still stood Mr. Devereux 
Gower, a sneering smile upon his full, sensual lips. 

A glow of recognition, full of bitter hatred, over- 
spread Jasper Lowder ’s face. 

“ My father !” he gasped, with a menacing stare. 

Mr. Gower advanced a few paces, still smiling. 

“Yes, I am your father, Jasper Lowder!” he 
exclaimed. 

“ The father who deserted me in my boyhood — the 
father who left me to struggle with the world — who 
exposed me to this terrible temptation which has 
wrecked me ! Accursed — ” 

Mr. Gower waved one hand with a graceful flourish. 

“ Hold !” he said. “ Spare your curses, young man. 
I am your father, Devereux Gower. I know your his- 
tory and your — your errors. I am wifeless and childless, 


278 


GUY TRESSILIAN’S FATE 


except for you. As Sir Arthur Tressilian has kindly 
forgiven you, and as you seem to be a young man of 
some ability, I am willing to acknowledge you as Jasper 
Lowder Grower, my son and heir. What do you say ? 
Shall it be peace between us ?” 

“ Peace !” breathed Hester. 

“ Yes,” assented Lowder, after a hard struggle with 
himself. “It shall be peace.” 

He held out his hand, and Mr. Gower shook it warmly. 
Their reconciliation was complete. 

“You will not leave me, Hester, now you know all ?” 
said Jasper humbly. “ I deserve that you should aban- 
don me — ” 

“ But I will not !” said Hester tenderly. You have 
done wrong, Jasper, but you can repent. We will begin 
life over again. Come !” 

They went out together, Mr. Gower following them. 
The three entered a waiting cab and drove down the 
avenue, passing a fly in which sat the Popleys, mother 
and son. 

Proceeding directly to Gloucester, the little party of 
Gowers took the first train for Northumberland, hasten- 
ing to Gloam Fell. 

And there, by the inanimate form of his dead child, 
with his wife kneeling beside him and urging upon him 
in tender, wifely words, the beauty of a nobler, better 
life, Jasper Lowder found a new manhood. Over the 
tiny, wax-like face of his first-born, he vowed to become 
an honorable, honest man ; and he kept his word. In 
the grave of his little child were buried all unhappy 
remembrances, and with his wife and his father, who 
soon grew to be proud of him, he lived a life that was 
not all harshness and selfishness, but had in it the ele- 
ments of beauty and goodness. 


A “ MERRY CHRISTMAS.’’ 279 

And to-day, looking at his meek, true-hearted young 
wife, he says that he was “ redeemed by love.” 

But to return to Tressilian Court and its inmates. 

When the Gowers had departed, Sir Arthur suddenly 
missed Blanche, who had stolen from the room. 

He went in search of her, finding her in the library, 
standing by the window, and looking out upon the win- 
try lawn. 

He went up to her and took her hand in his. 

“Are you grieving over your disappointment in 
Jasper Lowder ?” he asked gently. 

Blanche shuddered. 

“ No, indeed, Sir Arthur,” she exclaimed. “ I should 
never have married him, in any case. I made up my 
mind last night that I had rather die than marry 
him. My respect for him died the night I saw him com- 
mit the robbery, and as to love — I never loved him.” 

“ Guy is married — ” 

“And I rejoice in his marriage !” cried Blanche, with 
animation. “ His Olla is the sweetest, noblest, bravest 
girl in all England. Only think ! He owes his life and 
reason to her !” 

“ And ) T ou are sure, Blanche, that all these changes 
and occurrences have given you no pang ?” 

“ Quite sure.” 

“ Pardon me, Blanche,” urged her guardian gently, 
‘‘but it is my greatest fear lest you should have received 
some wound. You are sure you never loved ?”' 

Blanche’s face flushed, then paled. 

“ I— I didn’t say that,” she whispered. 

“ You have loved, then ? And I would have died to 
save you a sorrow. Oh, Blanche ! Blanche !” 

Blanche raised her grave gray eyes, now dark and 
luminous with feeling. Sir Arthur started back, read- 


280 


GUY TKESSILIAN’S FATE. 


ing in their lucid depths the young girl’s secret She 
loved him even as he loved her. 

“ My darling !” he whispered. “ Is it I whom you 
love ?” 

Blanche whispered a soft assent. 

Not one of the family of Tressilian Court attended 
church that day, but their joy and gratitude were none 
the less to the kind Providence that had overruled all 
things for their good. 

A month later Sir Arthur Tressilian purchased a 
handsome estate in the neighborhood of Tressilian 
Court for his son, and Guy and Olla, with their house- 
hold, which included the Popleys, entered upon its pos- 
session, with a handsome income to support it. Early 
in February Sir Arthur and Blanche were married, and 
it would be hard to tell which is the happier of the two 
young brides, or which the prouder and more tender, 
the Baronet or his son. 


THE END. 


A New Novel by Col. Knox. 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 

BY 

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Author of “ The Boy Travellers ,” t( Overland Through Asiaf 
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Author of “ The Beads of Tasmer f “Mrs. Barr's Short Stories f 
“ The Bow of Orange Ribbon f “ Friend Olivia ,” etc. 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY VICTOR PER ARB. 


12mo. Handsomely Bound in Cloth. Price, $1.25. Paper 
Cover, 50 Cents. 


These delightful stories embrace some of Mrs. Barr’s best work. 
“ The Mate of the ‘ Easter Bell ’ ” was first published as an Easter 
story in the New York Ledger and attracted much notice. It has 
all the characteristics of Mrs. Barr’s more ambitious works. It is 
a story of true love, in which patience and heroism are exalted. 
The book contains a variety of other stories, grave and gay, full 
of fine characters, drawn with the vigor and discrimination which 
have raised Mrs. Barr to the front rank of the novelists of our 
time. The book is nicely illustrated, and forms a beautiful com- 
panion volume to the “ Beads of Tasmer.” 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York. 


A New Novel by Mrs. Harriet Lewis, 


NEVA’S THREE LOVERS. 


BY 

MRS. HARRIET LEWIS, 

Author of “ Beatrix Rohan f “ Lady Kildare tc Her 
Double Life,” etc. 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY F. M. GREGORY. 


12mo. 504 pag-es. Handsomely Bound in Cloth. Price, $1.00. 

Paper Cover, 50 Cents. 


Mrs. Lewis’s new novel is one to interest every reader, young 
and old. It is a good story. The heroine is an unusual char- 
acter, and the plot and incidents in which she plays such an im- 
portant part excite in the mind of the reader a deep feeling of 
admiration and of profound interest in her fortunes. The novels 
of Mrs. Lewis, beginning with “ Her Double Life,” have all en- 
joyed immense popularity. They furnish delightful reading and 
recreation, and the scenes described in such vivid language linger 
in the memory. Mrs. Lewis was a great traveller, and visited the 
most picturesque and lovely portions of the Old World, and she 
used her experiences to entertain and delight her readers. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SON't 
Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York. 


Heimburg’s New Novel. 


MISS MISCHIEF. 

(MAMSELL UNNUTZ.) 


BY 

W. HEIMBURG. 

Translated from the German by Mary Stuart Smith. 

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY WARREN B. DAVIS. 

12mo. 350 Pag-es. Handsomely Bound in Cloth. Price, $1.50. 
Paper Cover, 50 Cents. 


Heimburg’s new novel is one of the most interesting books that 
have come from her pen. It is the story of a young girl brought 
from Italy to Germany and reared amid scenes and circumstances 
uncongenial to her nature. Unappreciated and misunderstood, 
it is not strange that her acts are misinterpreted and that she gets 
the reputation of being a good-for-nothing and mischievous child ; 
but so interesting is her character and so skillfully are her fine 
traits developed by the author that the reader is surprised by the 
vision of beauty and truth and heroism which, as the story pro- 
ceeds, dawns upon the mind. “ Miss Mischief” becomes a noble 
woman, and by her self-sacrifice, patience and energy repays a 
hundredfold all the protection and assistance which have been 
grudgingly given to her during her childhood. The story is a 
charming one, the characters are interesting, and the incidents 
natural ; and the book is laid down with a feeling of entire satis- 
faction and admiration for the author. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York. 


A New American Novel. 


TRANSGRESSING THE LAW. 


BY 

CAPT. FREDERICK WHITTAKER, 

Author of “ The Great Kenton Feud” “ Bel Rubio” etc . 


WITH ILL USTRA TIONS BY WARREN B. BA VIS. 


12mo. 300 Pages. Handsomely Bound in Cloth. Price, $1.00. 
Paper Cover, 50 Cents. 


This novel has a strong and interesting plot. It turns upon the 
false imprisonment of an artist who has eloped with the daughter 
of a millionaire, and its interest is artfully heightened and varied 
by the discovery of an ancient treasure in Peru. The story is told 
in a lively and engaging style which catches hold of the reader’s at- 
tention and sustains the interest. The story is admirably adapted 
to beguile the tedium of a railway journey, as it is full of realistic 
incidents, and there is something interesting going on in it all the 
time. Captain Whittaker belongs to the same school of novelists 
as Sir Walter Scott. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York. 


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